(Lit) For Senses On, part two

CHAPTER SIX HERE THERE BE TYGERS


Long after Maggie left I remained in the CP alone with my thoughts. I was ashamed of the drunken performance I had put on, but the underlying emotions were all to real. I felt a tremendous sense of guilt over the deaths of the refugees who I had convinced to follow me to this valley, especially the children. While Evers had contributed in part to the disaster, ultimately it was me who had struck the bargain which led to the air raid. And I had done so realizing full well I inviting higher risk to the refugee camp.

I got up and started a pot of strong coffee brewing then unrolled the map on which Norbert had penciled in the location of the Russian airbase. We couldn't let the attack go unanswered, nor would I if I could. This wasn't a case of letting sleeping dogs lie anymore. One or the other of these airbases was going to be demolished before all was said and done. Digging through the topographical flying charts we had aquired along with the cropdusters I found one of the same area and of nearly the same scale as the state highway map and began to plan the attack. I was still at it the next morning when Deacon returned to the CP.

I didn't get up when he came in, just nodded towrds the coffee pot and said, "Coffee's hot Deacon, grab you a cup and pull up a chair."

I had my pocket calculator out on the table figuring up flight times and fuel consumption rates, taking measurements off the map with a stringline and a ruler.

Deacon sat down beside me and studied the maps, then looked over my notes in the spiral notebook. I reclined back in my chair rubbing my bloodshot eyes and waited him out. He finished at length and looked up at me with a slight grin. "I guess this means you're gonna be hanging around awhile?"

"I guess so." I replied.

We finished our coffee and set out to find Evers, taking the maps and attack plans with us. We found him at the C-130, inspecting the shrapnel damage it had taken in the attack. An A-10 sat on the runway with engines running and a pilot in the open cockpit, a brace of sidewinder missiles slung under his wings on the hardpoints. I could see another one circling at about five thousand feet in the distance. I resisted the urge to greet Evers with "better late than never", and settled for a cool nod of the head instead. He wasn't getting off the hook till I got what I came for, but I didn't want to launch into hostilites before the negotiations required it.


Evers had the pilots of the C-130 and a group of mechanics gathered around him discussing the damage, so we sat down on a pile of Russian crates which apparently had come off the plane. There was quite a mound of them and I was wondering what was inside when the loadmaster walked over and introduced himself. "Aren't you the commander of the refugee camp?" he asked.

"I guess you could call me that. Names Nikoli Krushev, you can just call me Nick." There was something oddly familiar about him but I couldn't put my finger on it.

"Seargeant Gunderson." He replied, then nodded towards the small mountain of crates and ammo containers. "All this crap is for you, your daughter made up a list for us of stuff yall could use when she found out we were headed up to a captured Russian airbase in Maine after dropping her off in Branson. She also mentioned you have most of the inventory of a blasted out liquor store in the back rooms of your CP?" he said with a raised eyebrow.

I grinned and said, "I think we probably can reward your efforts Seargeant, what all have we got here?"

"Not as much as you could've had if I hadn't had to save room for that oil leaking piece of crap 57 chevy." He flipped through his manifest and began to recite the contents of my special delivery. "Six thousand rounds of cannon ammo for the Zeus you stole, a dozen heat seeking antiaircraft missiles, 50 AK-74 assault rifles, 20 makarov pistols, 100 gas mask with extra filters, four twenty kilowatt multifuel generators, a crate of AK mags, Fifteen thousand rounds of AK ammo, half on belts, six .30 cal light machineguns, 30 Russian combat uniforms, a couple dozen satchel charges, (he flipped the page and continued) forty pairs of combat boots I nearly had to fistfight over, two nuclear bombs of unknown yield, and a partridge in a pear tree." He finished at length.

Deacon and I looked at each other and then back at the sergeant. "Did you say Nuclear bombs?"

The Sergeant met my look head-on and replied. "Your daughter specifically asked for those. I don't think she likes Russians very much. I wouldn't get too het up over it, the commies are still popping a small one every now and then against any heavily concentrated forces they encounter which they don't think have retaliatory capability. What's good for the goose is good for the gander. Besides," he added, "just between you and me I don't think the top brass got the balls to use these things unless it's a final act of desperation."

"What makes you think I will?" I asked.

"I guess that's the million dollar question isn't it? Just how far are you willing to go to defend these people?"

Norbert's voice came unbidden into my head, "You keep fighting, someday you live with it too." I saw Evers walking towards us, finished with the mechanics. "Sergeant, I said in a low voice, "Let's keep those nukes just between us for now, OK?"

"He glanced over at Evers and replied. "I was just about to ask the same thing of you."

I shook hands with Gunderson and assured him we would have some men up here ASAP to get this junk out of his way as Evers joined us. Evers surveyed the mound of crates as Gunderson walked away and said. "That Seargeant Gunderson is quite a scavenger, isn't he? I sure lucked out getting him from the replacement pool."

"Probably the best I've ever seen." I replied. And I wasn't exagerating one bit.

"Nick I'm bloody sorry about what happened here yesterday, if there were any way I could undo it, I'd do it at any price. As you can see I have stationed two planes on full combat alert and have put in a request for more surface to air missiles and radars. We're also bringing in a couple of F-16 interceptors from Patterson, but they won't be here and ready to fight for several more days."

I nodded and said. "I appreciate your concern over our casualties Roger, and of course I'll expect to see you at the funeral tomorrow. In the meantime I'd like to talk to you about a counterattack on the Russian airfield. You know as well as I do this isn't the end of it, next time they may hit us with WMD's or sortie and entire squadron of fighter bombers against us. We need to strike back as soon as possible. I've drawn up some attack plans here for you to look over and get your opinion on." I handed the map case and spiral notebook to him, even as he shook his head.

"Nick, that airfield is surrounded by a dug in division of Russian armor and a couple of companies of air defense. It sits between two mountains with only one way in and one way out. We've already lost a half dozen F-15 strike eagles trying to take it out and haven't even manged to crater the runway for all that." He raised a hand in protest as I started to interupt. "I'll have a look at your plans and give them an honest evaluation. If you've spotted an angle we have overlooked then we'll bloody well blast that place to kingdom come. But I warn you now the chances of that happening are not good."

I looked Evers in the eye as he spoke, and knew he spoke the truth. If the airfield could be hit, we'd hit it. But he wasn't going to throw away his pilots on a suicide mission. "Fair enough Roger, there's just one other thing I'd like to ask of you. I'd like my airplane repainted in my tiger pattern and colors. Can your men handle it or do I need to get the body shop man down in the camp to do it?"

Evers raised his eyebrows slightly at "my airplane" but let it pass. "Why on Earth do you want your plane such a godawful bright yellow color?" he asked.

"A long time ago I was reading a book. Can't remember what book, or by whom it was written. Maybe Louis La'mour, but there was a passage in it about the dark ages. The old mapmakers used to mark unknown or dangerous territory with the phrase "Here There Be Tygers". I've often wondered if that was what Pappy Boyington was thinking of when he painted all his tomahawks with the flying tigers design. Anyway I want those Russians to see me. I'm going on an extermination campaign against those Hinds, and any other communist assets I can get in my sights. I want them to spread the word. Whenever they enter these mountians, or look at it on their charts, I want the visual image of that Tiger in their minds. You know how superstition and fear can eat away at the confidence of a pilot."

"OK Nick, it's your funeral. I'll get my men to do the prep work and you can have your man shoot the paint. You want missiles on the wings or just the gun.?"

"Give me two sidewinders on the inboard hardpoints and some drop tanks for extra range. I'll have my man up here tomorrow to shoot the paint, if that's ok with you."

"Your bird will be in the hangar." he turned to walk away and paused. "Boyington's planes were painted as tiger sharks, by the way."

"You think it made any difference to those japs he killed?" I asked.

"No, I don't suppose it did."


We held the funeral the next morning at ten o'clock. A couple of carpenters had built some coffins out of walmanized lumber and we had dug the graves in our growing cemetary with one of the backhoes. Two more of the wounded had died, doc now expected the others to eventually recover unless internal infections set in. The cemetary location was in a small clearing off to the East side of the main field. The location was chosen because it had a good view out over the valley while not being in sight of the main camp. Everybody had to walk past the downed Hind in the meadow to reach it though, not that all that many came. I guess everybody had seen just about enough death to last them a while already.

Deacon gave the eulogy and a pretty longwinded speech about heaven and hell, good and evil, and the damned communist. Evers and I were standing together near the back of the crowd, and he was getting some pretty hateful looks from some of the attendees. As Deacon droned on and on I got to staring at the Hind. It was pretty shot up but it hadn't burned. There wasn't any danger it would ever fly again though, especially with most of its skeleton exposed by the scavenging refugees. I could see the hydraulic lines and pumps exposed even from here. I suddenly noticed a low pitched whine which had been going on for a few seconds and got to looking around for the source, trying to be discreet.

It was some kind of jet or turbine engine, no doubt about it, but it didn't sound like an airplane. I turned to give an order, but the two men stationed behind the backhoe with the stinger missiles were already on the ball. Each had shouldered his weapon and was scanning the sky for a target.

Evers broke into a run headed up the hill towards his humvee as Deacon launched into Ashes to Ashes. Everybody was looking skyward now, including Deacon as he recited on out of memory.

A cruise missile came into view down below us in the river valley from around the bend, and people began running towards the bunkers. The misseleers had it spotted and were tracking it with their sights, waiting for a lock. "Anderson, you shoot first and save the other one in case it misses." I said.

Deacon stopped his incessant droning and watched with the rest of us as the missile turned towards the camp and began to climb. Andersons missile finally aquired a lock and he fired. The stinger streaked out of the tube with a whoosh and a flash, it's trail sweeping in a gentle curve as it tracked the moving target. They converged about three hundred yards away and exploded, the forward main body of the cruise missile still intact and tumbling into the woods. There was no secondary explosion.

I pulled my walkie talkie off my belt and called the command APC. Wilks answered immediately. "Get me a couple of people down here in full chemical gear ASAP." I said. The smoke from my cigarette was blowing towards the downed missile, so we were in no immediate danger as Wilks responded. "10-4 Boss."

Deacon was staring at the trees where the missile had gone down. "You know if that's a conventional warhead it may go off anytime, you could lose those men."

I got back on the radio and told Wilks to send an extra chemsuit and equipment for me, then turned to Deacon. "We have to know one way or the other. If that thing is down there leaking anthrax or smallpox, or even nerve gas we could have a major situation on our hands."

He just nodded in silence as we waited. And I turned to look at the Hind again, studying the exposed hydraulic lines in the tail boom. They didn't seem to be very badly damaged at all. "What the hell are you looking at?" Deacon asked.

"Just studying the Hind for weak spots", I replied. And repair parts, I thought, but didn't say. In the back of my mind the monster shifted, edging a little closer to the cage. I tried not to look at it. He pointed at the graves before me, gloating. I turned away from the Hind and stared off into the valley. After a minute I asked, "How's that Russian helicopter pilot doing?"

Deacon gave me a strange look, probably wondering if I had finally snapped. "He's still eating up our grub, I got him working with the firewood detail to earn a little of his keep. Why?"

"Oh, nothing. Just looking at the helicopter got me to thinking about him." The monster laughed. I could see him clearer now, and he looked a lot like Kramer on the old Seinfeld show.

Evers joined us at the downed missile in chemical gear about thirty minutes later. It had broken up further on impact and lay scattered over about a fifty yard area. I studied the Warhead from fifty feet away with a pair of binoculars. A yellowish powder had leaked out of the cannister behind the small explosive charge. There was quite a bit of it on the ground around the warhead, it looked kind of like pine pollen. I handed the binoculars to Evers and he looked it over again. "Probably anthrax or smallpox." He said. "We'll have to burn it."

We turned to walk out of the woods as Evers called his airbase on the radio. "Get me a couple of Napalm loaded up on the alert bird." he said. He thought about it a moment and spoke again. "Make that four Napalm."

We paused at the edge of the treeline long enough to be doused with bleach, then continued up the hill.

I made it a point to walk right by the Hind on the way back up the hill. Sure enough the tail boom section hadn't taken any hits at all. The working parts, hoses, and rotor of the rear half of the helicopter were in perfectly serviceable condition.

I next went to the showers, shedding my chem gear and mask into a 55 gallon drum outside. Deacon was waiting with five gallons of diesel and he set the used suits afire as soon as we had all shed them. We then went inside and showered, bagging our dirty clothes for burning also. Doc was waiting with antibiotic injections when we stepped out of the showers, and he gave two to each of us, along with a bottle of pills to take over the next week. We got dressed in clean clothes they had layed out for us and exited the shower building, going our separate ways.

I continued on to the Cp, where I dug out the personell folders Amy had been keeping for me. It only took a few minutes to find four people on the list with the skills I required. One of them had lost a daughter in the air raid.

I walked out of the building, stopping at the APC stationed outside. Wilks was lounging in the copula, monitoring the radio. "See if you can get ahold of Ray. I want him to get his tank mechanics to dissasemble the entire tail boom section of that Hind and stow the mechanical parts in the two Russian APC's. The refugees have been stripping parts off of it and we may need some of that stuff later on."

He gave me the thumbs up and I walked on towards the Refugee camp. It took me about thirty minutes to locate the prior owner of Wilcox Electronics Repair. I had spoken to him after the air raid so I knew what he looked like already, it was just a matter of tracking him down. "Mr. Wilcox, I wonder if I could have a word with you over at the CP. I know this is a bad time, but I really need your help."

He looked at me curiously and nodded, kissing his wife goodbye. "I won't keep him too long Mrs. Wilcox." I said.

As we walked towards the CP I said. "Mr. Wilcox, what I am about to show you is for your eyes only. This is Top Secret information and your silence and cooperation are essential to the success of this operation. Do you Understand?"

I really had his attention now. "Yes, I understand, I can keep my mouth shut."

We walked around the CP to the back porch, where two coffin sized wooden crates were resting under the awning with a tarp over them. I pulled back the tarp and opened the lid of one, revealing the seven foot long bomb packed inside. It was painted flat black with a red nose and red tail fins. There was a radiation symbol on the side of it, near the one of the access plates. Mr. Wilcox's eyes bugged out.

"Your mission, Mr. Wilcox, should you choose to accept it, is to wire a radio command detonator to this nuclear bomb, or failing that to put a programmable timer on it. The bomb will be used against the Russian airbase which has launched the last two strikes against us, including the one which killed your daughter. Do you think you can do it?"

One of Evers' A-10's came cruising over the ridge and dropped two napalm bombs in the woods. "That was anthrax, wasn't it?" Wilcox asked.

"Yes. " I replied.

"I can do it. I'll need a ride into town to pick up some tools and parts."

I handed him the keys to my pickup. "Take my truck, it's the 78 chevy stepside with the hole in the roof. Tell Wilks you need four riflemen to ride with you. Remember, not a word to anyone, I have reason to believe there may be spetznaz troops posing as refugees among us."

He nodded and said, "How soon will you need it?"

"Within a few days most likely."

"No problem. I can have it ready tomorrow."

"I'll need a transmitter to set it off with a 30 mile range, preferably with a coded frequency."

"When I get through with it you'll be able to set it off using a preprogrammed frequency skip code off your regular military radios. All you'll have to do is enter the code and key the mike for about two seconds. That OK?"

"That's perfect." I replied.

We parted company and I went looking for Sergeant McKenzie. I found him fiddling with his tank up the forest sevice trail, the first place I looked. Leaving my humvee running I called him down to the ground. "Sergeant, is that M1-A1 still in running condition?" I knew it was but I needed to beat around the bush a little as protocol.

"Yes sir, she's purring like a kitten."

"Well, I'd like for you to have it loaded on one of the tank transports tomorrow morning at 0700, I have a job for it. Have the crew ready to follow it in a Humvee. Tell them to bring their rifles."

"Yes sir," he replied and saluted.

I returned the salute as best I could then headed on up the road to the airfield. Deavers was busy painting my airplane, most of it already covered in bright yellow high gloss enamel which gradually shaded into a more orange color along the top. The belly of the plane was an off white, looked like candy apple pearl. No doubt about it the man was an artist. He had masked off the area where the mouth would go on the nose of the aircraft and shot it in blood red. I didn't stop him in his work, just waved and gave him a big grin and a thumbs up. I saw the armorers taking a break in the coffee room and headed their way.

Jesse was the one who usually loaded out my plane, so I cornered him and starting asking stupid questions after some preliminary small talk. "Jesse, I was wondering if the target rounds we use on the gunnery range would penetrate the armor on a Hind?"

He looked at me like I was a total idiot and replied. "Sure, at close range. But why in the hell would you want to?"

I ignored the question and pressed on. "How close. I mean what would you guess the max range would be to get penetration of the armor?"

"Maybe 300 yards. It's a high velocity load but a light slug. Loses energy really fast compared to the standard depleted uranium rounds."

"Could you load me a belt of it up in my plane and pull all the tracers out?"

"Yeah, I could do that, be a lot of work, but I could do it."

"Be a few cases of your favorite brew in it, and a couple of bottles of whisky if you can have it ready for me at 0800 tomorrow morning. I realize you'll have to wait for the paint to dry so it'll mean working late tonight. But I really need it."

"Ok, it'll be ready, I can start on the ammo right after I get off break and won't take long to load it later. You mind if I ask what you want it for?"

"I'm going to try and shoot a Hind down without burning it up." I replied.

He just nodded and I walked away.

I headed directly for Evers office, feeling like a condemned man must feel waiting on the call from the governor. He and Bowen were going over some paperwork pertaining to the functioning of the squadron, and I waited as they finished up. After a few minutes they wrapped up and Bowen left after a little small talk. I skipped the formalities with Evers and asked "Well, is the mission a go or no go?"

He sighed and shook his head. "Nick your plan just won't work. Look here." He spread some aeriel photographs over the table and I leaned over to watch as he pointed. I could see the photos were old, and he had a magic marker with which he was drawing in missile sites on the mountains ringing the old county airport. "There are at least thirty SAM sites located along this arc, with redundant radars here, here, and here. In the valley a battalion of Zeus antiaircraft are deployed completely ringing the airfield. There are literally hundreds of stinger missiles on the mountainsides and covering all approaches, in addition to heavy machineguns and tripple A." He continued to scrawl on the photo which was rapidly turning red as blood. "We haven't even gotten into the T-80 and T-90 tanks, which also posses anti-aircraft capability. Our latest intel indicates at least two hundred of those are strewn out in dug in positions both on the reverse slopes of the mountains and in the valley proper. In short if we launched everything we had against this fortress we would be extrordinarlily lucky to get a single pilot back alive, and the best we could hope to accomplish at that price would be to use up a lot of their ammunition. Bugger all it just won't work."

I nodded and asked, "You wouldn't happen to know the population of that town before the war would you?"

"No, why do you ask?"

I just shook my head, "I guess it doesn't matter, most of them are probably dead now, and those who aren't wish they were."

"The dead no longer care, Nick. Worry about the living."

"Do you believe in God Roger?" I asked.

"After a fashion, I suppose." he replied, looking at me curiously. "Do you?"

"Yes, and I also believe in the devil. No one else could lay such a perfect trap."

He glanced back down at the photograph and nodded his head. But I wasn't talking about his pictures. The monster was loose inside my head and he no longer looked like Kramer, he looked exactly like me. I turned and walked wearily from the room, headed back to camp. I was going to find Porter, Maggie's alternate commander of the Zeus. I had a job for him.
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Porter was a lanky six foot two inch, 25 year old Arkansas native with dirty blonde hair and slightly buck teeth. He was one of the guardsmen from the Ft. Smith armory, a PFC E-2 by rank, whatever the hell that meant. By some twist of fate his home town was now the Russian airbase. A fact which had escaped my attention until I was going through Amy's records in search of surviving relatives of the air raid. His records also showed he had a wife and a boy back home in the occupied town.

I found him eating a large can of peaches and sitting on a boulder near the med shack. I squatted down near him and grinned, "Man them peaches look good Porter, I'm gonna miss em next year if we can't find another stash."

Porter surveyed the rusty top of the can for a moment and replied, "Hi Nick, yeah the cans are rotting out real quick, must be a lot of acid or something in the juice."

"I got a couple of peach trees in the yard back down in Texas, but frost gets em most years. I spect this far north yall can't hardly grow em at all."

"No," he replied, "They don't do good around here at all."

"Look Porter I was looking for you, we got a mission coming up and I'm gonna need you and the Zeus on it."

"Sure Nick, what's up?"

"Some of the locals from Jasper spotted a Russian tank south of town about ten miles. Said he had some battle damage but was still operational, least he could move his turret anyway. They were hunting deer in a canyon right off the main highway and said he's back in the brush about a hundred yards waiting for something to come down the road so he can kill it. I figure his radio is dead and he's low on fuel, most likely a straggler from that armored column we engaged. I want to take the Zeus and the Russian APC's down south of Jasper, form em up into a convoy and then fake a breakdown in front of his hide position. We may be able to lure the crew out of the tank and capture it. If that fails I'm gonna have one of our tanks circle in behind him on the North ridge and try to take him out. You'll be in command of the decoy column and be responsible for providing air cover. My plane is down for repairs and Evers boys are all tied up on support missions. I clued Evers in on what is going on so we won't have any problems out of his boys trying to strafe you but you always got to worry about the joker in the deck."

"Aint that the truth", Porter replied with a grin. "When do we leave.?"

"Go ahead and get your gear loaded up, take some food and water with you and load the Zeus on one of the transports out by the gate. Just standby there with it till I get back to you, one of the APC's is giving us engine problems so it may be an hour or it may be tomorrow, but I want to be ready to roll as soon as it's up. Here's a map of where we'll be headed, I got the location of the Russian tank circled in red. I'll be in the command APC behind this ridge here with the tank. If anything goes wrong yall haul butt up to us."

He studied the map for a moment and said, "Got it boss." he offered the map back to me.

I looked at him and grinned, "Keep it I got another. Go ahead and finish your peaches fore you leave, we got time for that. And keep tight lipped about what's going down, I don't want the women folks worrying all night over us."

He nodded and I walked away, looking for Ray. He was down at the Hind, overseeing the dismantling of the tail boom. I got him off to the side and said. "Ray, don't bring the APC's down here to load this stuff up till a while after the Zeus leaves. I don't want Porter to see them moving or see yall loading all this stuff up."

Ray raised his eyebrows and said "Ok, What's up with that Nick?"

"I'm not 100 percent sure, but I think he's a mole. His wife and son are living in the town where the Russian airbase is and he wasn't at either of the attack sites when they came down. Both of those attacks came at the worst possible time, when we had a lot of people congregated out in the open. He also has constant access to a Russian radio with skip capability in the Zeus. I think maybe he's been feeding info to the Russians in exchange for promises of protection for his family. I may be wrong, but it don't look good from where I'm standing right now. I'm setting him up to find out one way or the other right now. Get a good nights sleep, it's going to be a long day tomorrow. We pull out at 0700."

"Where we going?" Ray asked.

"We're going to try and capture a Hind down south of Jasper. If I'm right about Porter he's going to put one right in our laps. Keep all this between you and me for
now."

"Got it Nick."

"I'll get with you later this afternoon and give you the entire plan, just get this chopper torn down for now. Make sure the mechanics load up every tool they used to take this thing apart with the pieces."

He nodded and I walked away, headed back to the CP. Deacon was inside and I brought him up to speed on my plans.


Deacon looked at me a long time after I had finished before saying anything. "You realize there are civillians in that town Nick. You won't just be slaughtering a few thousand Russians, we're talking Americans here too."

"I realize that full well Deacon, it's just the price that has to be paid. If we don't take that airbase and that armored division out this war could drag on for another year. We don't have a year to wait. That base is the link that keeps the whole communist line in place. Once it is gone the 7th cav can combine forces with the troops containing that Northern Russian divison, blast into Texas and cut the Chinese supply lines while flanking them from the South. It should all be over in a month or two and we could get to rebuilding. Besides that I figure there are more Americans here at this base than remain alive there. I have a duty to protect these people, and this is the last option remaining to me to do so. I have made up my mind. The attack will proceed."

"May God have mercy on your soul." He said.

I just nodded and walked out the door. Wilcox was coming down the road in my pickup. He dropped the guards off in front of the CP and gave me a thumbs up, then pulled around to the back porch. I took a deep breath and went looking for my helicopter pilot. I had a job for him.

After telling him I needed him at the CP at 6:30 in the morning dressed to fly I headed back up to Evers office in my Humvee. "Roger, I need an aerial photograph of this area, if you have one." I indicated the spot on his map. I had overflown the place quite a few times in the past, but I needed to know the exact location of the nearest clearing in relation to the North ridge which couldn't be seen from the highway or the reverse slope.

He looked at the map and began to dig in his filing cabinet, soon producing several photographs of various magnification. He was grinning when he handed them to me. "Am I going to be let in on what you are cooking up, or is this some big dark bloody secret?"

I smiled back and replied. "I'm setting a trap for a Hind helicopter. Going to use my captured Russsian equipment as bait to lure him in and try to disable him without destroying the bird. We got a lot of parts off the downed hind down at the camp, I'm hoping I can repair it and use it in operations. I'd appreciate it if you'd tell your pilots my vehicles will be operating in the area, wouldn't want any friendly fire incidents."

"Sounds like a long shot to me, but it's your fuel. I'll tell my men, you won't have any worries from us"

"Mind if I hang onto these for a while?" I asked. "I also need the notebook back with the attack plans I gave you."

He fished the notebook out of his desk and said "You're not planning on trying to attack that base with the Hind and your pilot are you?"

"Not exactly." I answered.

"Well, I guess it doesn't really matter, the odds of your knocking one of those things down and keeping it intact enough to repair are pretty slim. But have fun trying."

"Thanks, Roger, catch you later."

"Oh Nick, bye the way. I wrote your A-10 off as a combat loss. As far as the USAF is concerned, it no longer exist. They are sending me a replacement aircraft, and there is a general coming in next week who wants to meet you."

"I'll try to work it into my schedule," I said with a grin, "have a good evening."

I stopped at the Zeus on the way back to the base and told Porter we wouldn't be leaving till the next morning at 7:00 as it was too late in the day to get started now. And if it wasn't too much trouble could he just stay the night with the Zeus in case we were attacked before dawn. It wouldn't be any problem at all, he assured me. As I drove away he was climbing into the Zeus.

I caught Ray and Maggie heading for the chow line, so I joined them and filled Ray in on what I intended. I still had Evers photographs with me and we studied them at our picnic table while we ate. Maggie was antsy and finally I said, well what's eating you. "Dad the men down in the APC's will be exposed to the Hind if you don't take him, along with those in the tank."

"You don't understand honey, his primary mission will be to kill the command APC. The convoy and the tank aren't the bait for this trap. I am. That enemy commander has lost six tanks, a Zeus, fourteen armored personell carriers, a Mig-29 fighter, four Hinds, a medvac bird, and nearly 200 men to me. Trust me, this is personal. He wants me dead and he's going to send an assasin to get it done. Anything after that will just be gravy for the pilot. I'm betting he'll send the chopper in tonight and have it wait here," I pointed to a small clearing on the gentle reverse slope of the South Ridge.

I continued "When Porter radios him that we are in position he will crank his engines and pop up over the ridge, going directly for the spot where the APC is positioned. I'll be circling here, down in Devils gorge about five miles to the West. The mountain should shield my engine noise at that range. Ray will call me as soon as he hears the chopper engines, abandon the APC, and I'll come charging in to see if I can hit him before he gets off the ground. The men in the Russian APC's will have stinger missiles, and if I can't take him on the ground, or right after he takes off, they will have time to get a lock on him. I would imagine Porter is going to have a malfunction of some type which will disable the fire control of the Zeus. I know I would in his position."

Maggie studied the map and looked back up at me. "You're a devious bastard." she laughed.

"You don't know the half of it." I replied.

I didn't sleep well that night. Amy and I had a long argument before turning in, she wasn't happy at all that I was taking an offensive operation against the Russians. She saw no sense in me risking the lives of myself and my men just to capture a helicopter. I lay on top of the covers sweating in the heat and wondering what she would think of my nuking an American town and a Russian base. I could see her in my minds eye, introducing me to people. "This is my husband, he slaughters people by the thousands for a living."

I finally drifted off to sleep and dreamed of Norbert. We were sitting in a burning tank and he was eating a can of peaches. There were worms crawling through the juice as he gobbled them down. I could feel the flames blistering my skin, and I pounded on the locked hatch trying to get out. I turned deperately back to Norbert but he had changed into Sergeant Gunderson. He held the writhing can of rotten peaches out to me and said, "Just eat the peaches Nick, they'll kill the pain."

The alarm clock went off at 4:00 and Amy fixed me a pot of coffee on the coleman stove while I got dressed. I put on my flight suit as the water boiled, and Amy came over to give me a kiss. "I'm sorry about last night", she said "I just worry so much you'll be killed and I'll be left all alone."

I held her close to me, smelling the scent of her hair. "And I worry you'll be killed leaving me alone too Amy. Which is why I have to go on this mission. This war must end, or none of us will survive in the long run."

She pulled back and looked me in the eye, "One helicopter isn't going to end the war."

"No, but it's a start."

We left it at that, a standoff, and sipped our coffee in silence. Both wondering what the day would bring.

I drove my Humvee up to the airbase and found Jesse finishing up the loadout on my A-10. I saw that he had put four sidewinders under the wings instead of the two I had requested. I guessed that was ok, they wouldn't slow me down that much.

He walked over to me, wiping the grease off his hands with a rag. "I went ahead and loaded you out with missiles, since you're just carrying target slugs in your gun. Thought they might come in handy if you get in a bind."

"That's fine Jesse, I appreciate your concern." I walked around the aircraft, admiring the beauty of the paint job. It looked like a completely different plane. Jesse walked alongside me, also admiring the artwork. "This is best looking airplane I have ever seen." he said, "Try not to scratch it up first time out. You still want those drop tanks put on?"

"No, leave them off for this mission, I won't be going far. She gonna be ready in a couple of hours?"

"She's ready right now if you don't want the tanks. I just need to button up the hatches and wipe off the fingerprints."

I handed him the keys to the liquor room. "I got to run back down to the CP, help yourself to some beer and a couple of bottles of whisky when you get the time. The ice machine should be full. Just leave the keys with Wilks."

"Ok, Nick, good hunting."

"Thanks Jesse, catch you later."

An hour later we had assembled at the front gate. I had the drivers and commanders of the various vehicles hunkered down in the dirt road around me as I went over our route. The convoy would proceed as a group to Jasper, then the tank and the Zeus would unload. The command APC and the tank would take a county road which circled in behind the target ridge while the Russian vehicles would hold in place for thirty minutes, then head south on the main highway until they reached the hide position of the imaginary Russian tank. I placed a Russian APC at the head of the convoy, followed by the Zeus transport, the tank transport, the humvee with the tank crew, the other Russian APC, and finally the command APC. We would maintain radio silence until we were engaged by enemy forces. Tactical frequency was to be 4600.

The mechanics, Maggie, and the helicopter pilot had remained hidden inside the Russian APC's along with three men from the stinger squad throughout the briefing, Porter had no idea they were there. Maggie had insisted on being allowed to go so she could take over the Zeus if she were needed. I didn't like it but was forced to concede her logic. Amy was going to throw a fit when she found out. Back at the camp Deacon was assembling a group of riflemen to follow thirty minutes behind the convoy in one of the troop trucks. They would be on standby in Jasper in case things got out of hand.

I wished everybody good luck and the convoy began to move out. As the lead vehicles drove away Ray emerged from the brush and I handed him my stetson and leather jacket. He climbed into the command APC and they drove away as the ramp raised. I waited for the dust to settle and started walking towards the airfield.

I was circling at low speed in devils gorge two hours later monitoring 5100 when Ray's call came in. "You're on boss, I can hear his engines spinning up over the ridge."

"Got it Ray, get the hell out of the APC and into the woods. Be there in a minute and a half." I switched back to 4600 and clicked the mike twice, signalling the stinger team to get ready. I got a single click in reply.

I shoved the throttles full forward and finished my turn as I accelerated. Pulling back on the stick I lined up on my preselected nav point, climbing out of the gorge on a compass heading which placed the field directly in front of me. I topped the ridge at 450 knots, then throttled back as I lowerd the nose. I toggled the safety switch off on the gun, then lowered my flaps ten degrees as my speed bled off. I let the aircraft sink following the backslope of the mountain as the clearing came into view ahead, still a mile away. As I drew closer I caught sight of the Hind, just starting to lift off the ground. Correcting my flight path slightly I centered the gunsight on the chopper and raised the flaps, increasing throttle a little. As I came into range of the Hind I suddenly saw that a second one was passing underneath me, having been hidden by the near treeline. I ignored him and opened fire on the one I had targeted, holding my sights just behind his tail rotor. Dirt and rocks geysered fifty yards short of the helicopter and I walked the fire into him with gentle movements of the stick. He began to spin sideways and I let off the trigger, shoving my throttles full forward and pulling the A-10 level just above the treetops. I extended out a mile and a half gaining speed then rolled up on the right wing and pulled into a hard turn back towards the ridge, toggling my weapons selector over to the right outboard missile station. A warbling tone came through the headset as the heat seeker searched for a target, and the heads up display shifted reticles. I looked up through the canopy, searching for the second Hind as I came around and leveled my wings in a shallow climb. I spotted him diving in towards the command APC just as he took a stinger in his right engine. The angle of his dive steepend and he augered into the trees between the ridges, exploding on impact. I switched back to my cannon.

The crew of the first Hind was out of the chopper and running for the trees as I came in with the nose down. They dissapeared in a cloud of dust as I triggered the gun, sweeping first them and then the treeline with my fire. I pulled out and climbed for altitude, in a slow turn, the Convoy on the highway passing beneath me. I could see a group of men standing around one who was face down in the ditch. I keyed my mike and said, "Well yall gonna stand around there all day or are you gonna fix my helicopter?" The men in the ditch started walking back to the APC's, but the one lying on his stomach remained where he was.

I settled into a holding pattern at two thousand feet, keeping an eye on the horizon and the road as the APC's and the Zeus moved off down the highway, then turned up a logging road which led to the field. Fifteen minutes later my helicopter pilot came over the radio. "She's not too shot up, the mechanics say about an hour and a half to get it operational."

"They have everything they need then?"

"10-4, just got to change out the tail rotor and a few hoses. The armor stopped most of the slugs, only a few got through."

"That's great, but make sure you check the main rotors good, I don't want you getting killed trying to get the thing back to base. If it isn't airworthy we leave it here till we get the parts to fix it."

"Roger that, out."

The M-1 tank and the Command APC were just arriving at the field, having broken a trail through the woods down to the highway then following the route of the convoy to the crippled helicopter.

I switched frequencies and called the airfield tower. "Tiger 2 to flight control, over."

"Copy Tiger 2, go ahead, over"

"I'm going to be escorting a captured Hind into my base up the river valley in a couple of hours. Could you relay the message to your SAM sites and pilots not to engage, over."

A pause, then "Copy that Tiger 2, do not engage Hind." I could hear laughter in the background.

"I'll let you know when we head that way. Out."

"Roger Tiger 2, out."

Chapter 7

The Homecoming


Gregory looked up from his work, down the valley towards the sound of the approaching helicopter. The distinctive whack of the blades left no doubt in his mind it was a Russian Hinds. He had heard that sound a million times over the last eight years in the Russian Army. Of course he didn't have to hear it to know, everybody in the camp was talking about it. That black bastard Wilks had spread the word an hour before that Nikoli's team had captured one and were bringing it to the base. For the thousandth time he wondered about Nikolis' name. The cowboy didn't look or act or sound the least bit Russian.

For once he didn't get yelled at for stopping. The Americans had also ceased their stacking of the firewood and were watching as the Hind came into view high over the valley, level with the camp perched on the shoulder of the mountain. A beautifully painted tiger striped A-10 warthog flew alongside him, missiles slung under his wings. Nikoli was a madman, Gregory thought, you could see that plane for miles. It looked dangerous as hell.

The Hinds came in slowing as the Warthog peeled off and did a victory roll over the base, throttling his engines to full power as he did. The noise was unable to drown out the spontaneous cheer from the Americans. He dissapeared over the ridge headed for the airfield as the Hinds flared to land. He settled near the old farmhouse and the engines began to spin down, finally stopping. Gregory noted that the stubby wings carried only antiarmor missiles, which meant he had been part of a pack. Hinds never operated alone in hostile territory without at least one antiaircraft missile. The lone pilot climbed out and began to walk away from the craft as a crowd converged towards him.

Ballard turned to the others and said, "Lets go have a look at it."

Gregory resumed piling firewood, pretending he hadn't understood. He's done a lot of that since his arrival here, thanks to that traitorous coward Norbert. Well, at least Norbert hadn't told them he spoke fluent english. He still couldn't believe the pacifist Christian bastard had the nerve to ram that MIG. In a way he had to admire him a little for that, even though he hated his guts with all his heart and soul.

"What about him?" Jackson asked, nodding at Gregory. Gregory stopped in mid swing and held the stick, looking at Jackson with a blank expression on his face. He wanted to take the stick and beat him to a bloody pulp with it. He smiled at the thought.

"Quit grinning at me you communist bastard. Oh Hell, I'll go lock him up. Yall go on, I'll catch up with you." Jackson picked up his rifle and motioned for Gregory to walk to his prison cell, the trailer off of a produce truck. Gregory took one last look at the Hinds as he placed the stick on the pile, and turned to walk to his trailer a hundred yards away. Somehow, he thought, that Hinds was going to take him home.

I taxied the Warthog up to the the turn around in front of its assigned revetment and stopped it, throttling the engines down to cool. Once again I checked to make sure the weapons were safed, and began to unbuckle my harness as the ground crew chocked the wheels. Reaching behind me over my shoulder I unplugged my helmet radio feed, then hit the switch to open the canopy. I killed the engines as the canopy opened, then placed an arm on either canopy rail to help me stand, stiff from hours in the cramped cockpit. I flexed my leg muscles in isometric exercises to loosen the cramps and reached down to unhook the flight suits pressurization hose and the chute cord. Slowly I climbed out onto the wing, careful not to tangle my feet in the ejection seats firing lever, and removed my helmet. The air temp outside the airconditioned cockpit was at least twenty degrees hotter, and perspiration beaded on my forehead as I acclimated. Jesse was standing at the bottom of the wing as I hopped down from the trailing edge.

He was grinning like a possum as he extended his hand. "I wouldn't have believed in a million years you could actually pull that off. Man that must have been a sight to see."

I smiled back at him and replied, "It's pretty easy to shoot one down when he's only five feet off the ground and barely moving."

"You want another load of those taget rounds?" he asked with a laugh.

"I think maybe we'll go with the regular load out from now on, I do want those drop tanks though for my next run."

"How bout those extra missiles?"

"Pull em off, too much wind drag. I'll take my chances without them. Leave the ones on the inboard pilons."

Evers pulled up in his humvee and I walked over, grateful for the ride. I unhooked my parachute harness and tossed the rig into the back seat, then climbed into the front passenger seat. "Thanks for the ride Roger, I'm beat."

"I know the feeling well. A man your age really shouldn't be flying combat missions, takes too long to recover afterwards." He drove away from the plane and headed for the pilots locker room.

I gave him a wry grin and replied, "Hell, I'm only two years older than you, I aint seen you slacking off any. Most squadron commanders just shuffle paper and take an occaisional joyride, you're out on nearly every mission." I paused and added, "If you don't mind just take me down to the camp, I need to see my wife and get a nap before the rest of the team gets back. I'll bring my gear back up later."

"Ok, but I was hoping to hear the story on how you pulled off that mission."

I gave him a brief outline as we drove down to the CP, and a promise of the full details at chow this evening. Amy and Wilks were waiting on the front porch in the rocking chairs, and a crowd was gathered around the Hind looking it over. The helicopter pilot, whose name I could never remember, was standing on the ground in front of the porch, awaiting my arrival as we pulled up. "Thanks again for the ride, Roger, I'll see you in a few hours at supper."

"Ok, Nick, get some rest and I'll talk to you later." he drove away as I walked over to the pilot. "Did it give you any problems?" I asked

"No, flew just fine. Had maybe a little vibration from the tail rotor, might be just a hair bent from the crash. It should be good for a few hundred more hours though. The bearings are brand new."

"Ok, good job. I guess that's all for now, go get some rest or something to eat and I'll catch you later if I need anything."

He walked away towards the wall as I climbed the porch. Amy stood to give me a hug and clung to my arm as Wilks offered me the walkie talkie. I just shook my head and said, "You hang onto it, I'm beat and stiff as a board. I'm gonna get a nap before the rest of the crew gets back. If anything real urgent comes up send somebody to get me, otherwise you're in charge."

"Ok, Nick, and congratulations on the mission. Wish I had been there."

I grinned and replied, "You would have been if Deacon hadn't smelled the chance to shoot some commies. He's not going to be in a good mood when he gets back, didn't get to fire a single round. I needed somebody with a cool head here though, and you were the top of the list. I'll talk to you later, take it easy."

Amy and I walked towards our tent, and she said, "That Wilks is a good man, we had a long talk while you were gone."

"I know, he needs a promotion. We'll see what we can do in a couple of days."

"He's engaged to that Korean girl Tammy with the two small boys. Maybe we should find him a bigger tent?"

I squeezed her butt and replied, "Maybe we should find him a second tent."


I was just coming out of the showers when the convoy started pulling in. Settling my NRA cap a little tighter on my just now growing back hair I headed for the CP, where Ray had pulled up in the Command APC, followed by the Zeus.
He and Maggie were talking quietly and holding hands when I walked up. They turned to face me and I could see that Maggie had been crying by her reddened eyes. "Let's go inside." I said.

They followed me into the cooler interior of the CP, where the window unit was buzzing away. We seated ourselves around the map table and I asked Maggie what had happened back at the decoy site. Amy came in from the showers as she began.

"When your signal came through for the stinger team to deploy we all got out of the APC's. Porter was standing in the hatch of the Zeus watching the ridge with a pair of binoculars and he didn't notice us for a few seconds. We could hear the chopper engines and the rotors spinning up so the guys activated their missiles and I walked up to the door of the Zeus, which was open. Porter had spotted your plane by then and I guess he figured out he'd been set up. He was activating the guns to shoot you down when I looked inside, so I pulled out my pistol and ordered him out of the vehicle. He stepped out the door and shouldered into me, knocked me flat on my butt, then ran for the trees. I emptied the clip into his back. The rest you already know."

"You did the right thing honey, I wouldn't lose any sleep over it. I was going to hang him when he got back to the base anyway."

She looked up at me and grimaced. "I wasn't crying over him, the traitorous slime. I was crying over his wife and child. You know the Russians will kill them now."

I looked down at the table and thought about it for a minute, then replied. "Well I might as well tell you all now, they would be dead in a few days one way or the other. I'm going to nuke that Russian airbase. That's what the helicopter is for."

I was surprised at the reaction, every one of them just nodded, even Amy. "I expected some protest at least." I said.

Amy replied. "Those murdering sonsofbitches have killed my entire family, along with at least a hundred million other innocent Americans. They attacked us without provocation after we dumped billions of tax dollars in welfare into their country. They have attacked us here with Anthrax, and rumors say the west coast is a wasteland of disease and radiation. I say kill every damned one of them, anyway you can. If this will shorten the war or save a single American life, go for it. But don't get yourself killed doing it."

Maggie and Ray nodded their heads in agreement. "Pretty well sums up my feelings on the whole thing too." Ray said.

"Have you forgotten who got you the nukes?" Maggie threw in. "I'm with mom, kill em all. I'm sick and tired of watching the sky every waking moment, waiting for the next attack, and going to sleep at night wondering if we'll wake in the morning. If the military is too chickenshit to do it, we'll just have to do it for them." She stopped for a moment and looked at Ray, who nodded back at her. "And I'm pregnant dad, I don't want my child to have to grow up in a war zone or an occupied country."

Amy ran over and hugged Maggie around the neck, beating me to her by a full step.

Deacon came in while we were all hugging, stopping short at the door. "Did I miss something?" he asked.

"No, you're just in time. We need to figure out how we're going to get Gregory to blow up that base for us. Maggie's pregnant by the way. I guess your wedding sevices are a little better than your funeral ceremonies."

"It wasn't my fault it took two tries to get those people buried. Congratulations
Maggie, and Ray. Good thing all your hair is coming back in gray, you'll at least look like a grandfather Nick."

We spent a couple of hours throwing out plans and picking them apart, and the one we finally settled on was a lot riskier than I cared for. But it was the best we could come up with so we would run with it until we thought of something better, if we did. Of course I made it clear this was a secret operation, and Evers was to know absolutely nothing about it under any circumstances. We would proceed on a need to know basis, keeping the informed circle as small as operational details would allow.


The task of getting Gregory into the Russian airbase with the nuke was a lot more complicated than it might seem at first glance. If we just let him escape it was going to take him ten minutes or more to get the chopper fired up and into the air. He wasn't going to buy that without being suspicious, and if he did get off the ground we had the capability to either blast him out of the sky or chase him down with an A-10. So if we just let him fly away he was going to know something was up. We also had to have a plausible cover story for the crate in the back of the helicopter, lest he land somewhere between his takeoff point and the Russian base to have a look at his cargo.

We did have one advantage to work with, I now was certain he spoke english. There was simply no way Porter could have established contact with the Russians, without being heard on the radio, unless he had both a Russian skip frequency code and an interpreter to set him up with a handler. The question was did we confront him with the knowledge, or try to manipulate him with leaked information. In the end the plan required we confront him, for we had to establish a relationship between him and one of our people. After eating with Evers I had Gregory brought to my office.

I had my .45 automatic laying on the table when Wilks brought him through the door. Wilks had used a large plastic tie-wrap to secure his hands behind his back, and was prodding him along with the muzzle of a sawed off pump shotgun. "Hello Gregory," I said, "have a seat."

He looked at me with a blank expression, and Wilks hit him hard in the small of the back with the butt of his gun. "The man said sit."

Gregory hit the floor on his knees, nearly going onto his face. Sweat ran down his fore head as he grimaced in pain, then a look of hatred came over his face. He said something in Russian then spit on the floor. The man had balls, I'd give him that. Wilks adjusted his attitude a little, trying not to kill him in the process. I was tempted to feel sorry for him, but the images of those small homemade coffins kept getting in the way.

Wilks finally stepped back to catch his breath and I said, "Have a seat Gregory." He looked up at me from the floor, and attempted to get to his feet. I nodded at Wilks and he grabbed him by the collar and drug him upright with one hand. Gregory shambled forward and collapsed into the chair. I waited a moment for his breathing to slow down and continued. "We caught Porter. We know everything. I have just brought you here so you may say a few words in your own defence before I pass sentence. Your actions have directly led directly to the deaths of civillians, women and children. For that you are charged with murder. Is there anything you would like to say?"

A mixture of blood and saliva hung in a streamer from his lower lip as he looked back at me across the table. I could see fear in his eyes, he knew I had hanged prisoners before. He helped bury them. He kept darting glances at the .45 laying on the table. Finally he summoned his nerve and spat out, "I did nothing you would not have done in my place, do what you will, Allah will revenge me."

I nodded and replied. "It is my sentence that you be hanged by the neck until dead next Sunday. You are relieved from work detail until the time of your execution to make peace with your maker. That is all, Wilks take him back to his cell."

"You heard the man, let's go you murdering bastard." Wilks said.

Gregory rose shakily to his feet and stumbled towards the door, Wilks hot on his heels with his shotgun. The door closed and I heard a grunt, then the sound of a body hitting the dirt. Wilk's had kicked him off the porch.

I put my .45 back in it's holster and opened the personell file of my helicopter pilot. His name was Randy Davis, I had to remember that. He was 46 years old, had a heart condition, single, no children, home town listed as Jasper, Arkansas. Ten years as a helicopter pilot in the U.S. Army, honorable disharge on medical disability. Before the war he had been self employed as a small engine mechanic. Currently residing in row C tent four. I studied the bare bones information looking for a hint of a problem. I could see nothing out of the ordinary, so I set down the folder and headed for his tent.

Randy had a small campfire going and was lounging in a lawn chair tamping tobacco into a pipe when I walked up. He placed a hand on the pistol worn crossdraw on his belt as I appeared out of the darkness, then settled back as he recognized me. "Drag up a stump" he said, pointing to a large cut of unsplit firewood on the other side of the fire.

"Evening Randy, glad I caught you at home." I sat down and fished in my pocket for a Winchester and my zippo.

"I'm usually home after dark, the nightlife aint all it's cracked up to be around here." He finshed with his pipe and lit it with a twig out of the fire. "What's on your mind Nick?"

"I mean to nuke that Russian airbase down south. I need your help."

He didn't even flinch. Exhaling smoke he said, "You got it. What's the plan?"

I told him.


The next morning Wilcox was still working on the bomb when I walked up with my coffee. "You haven't been on that thing all night have you?"

He looked around and replied, "Oh, good morning Nick. No I caught a few hours sleep. This thing turned out to be a little more complicated than I expected. It's got four internal safeties which I had to bypass and all of them were printed circuits. Had to pull the boards and rebuild them, then test for leakage. I'm almost through though, just a couple more hours."

I stepped a little closer and looked at the bomb. He had stripped most of the casing away, exposing the electronics and payload package. An American military radio was wired into it with a magnetic base, rubber coated antenna attached to that. Two car batteries provided voltage feed for the radio, unhooked right now. The main cover plate had been drilled through and two toggle switches mounted at opposite ends into it with wires trailing off into the electronics of the bomb. "Looks complicated" I said.

"Not really. When you strip all the fancy safety stuff out of the way it's just a basic electric circuit. We didn't need this altimeter so it's just a matter of providing the correct voltage to the microswitch which initiates the detonation. All those safeties do is interrupt that single voltage feed at different points." He pointed to the switches. "These arm the bomb, both must be in the on position or it won't do a thing. I mounted them so far apart so it would be harder for them both to be accidentally flipped at the same time. The relay which actually trips the bomb is hooked into the code processor of the radio. Unless an exact sequence of ten frequencies is initiated it cannot activate. That's a total of 40 digits which must be correct in numerical random order, and recieved in a specific time spacing of less than a few microseconds. The odds of winning a state lottery are easy compared to that happening by accident."

I nodded and said, "Well, just try not to let it go off prematurely. Where did you get the radio, by the way?"

"It was a reject out of one of Evers planes. I got several of them from his mechanics and pieced together a good one out of the parts. Told them I was a radio buff and liked to listen in on the military frequencies." he replied.

"Good work. Well I'll leave you alone, don't want you distracted. Take your time, we won't need it for a couple more days."

"It'll be ready when you are, just remember to arm it before you send it on its way." He reached into his breast pocket and handed me a folded sheet of paper. "These are the codes. I have another copy myself. As I told you before just punch these into your radio and key the mike. You do know how to program the codes into one of these don't you?"

I took the paper and dropped it into my pocket. "Yes I can program one, it was one of the first things I had to learn on the A-10. Thanks for your hard work Mr. Wilcox, I'll catch you later." I looked at my watch and hustled towards the defensive wall.


Gregory was hurting all over. His body was bruised and battered and his head pounded with every heartbeat. Wilks outweighed him by at least 50 lbs. and there wasn't an ounce of fat on him. The beating at the command post had been bad enough, but the face first landing in the dirt outside had added humiliation to the pain. NO one had ever kicked him in the butt before. Gregory rolled up into a sitting position as the chain rattled on the door, he didn't think he was going to be able to eat breakfast.

Jackson swung back the door and climbed into the trailer with Wilks right behind him. Instead of a breakfast tray Jackson was holding a pistol. They advanced on Gregory and Wilks began to undo his fatigue pants. "Gonna get me a little Russian booty this morning", he laughed.

Gregory started to cry out and Jackson cocked back the hammer on the huge revolver. "You make one sound and I'm going to blow your head off you communist bastard. We'll just tell everybody you tried to escape and I had to shoot you."

Gregory froze in mid cry as Wilks spun him around and yanked his trousers down, then shoved him face first in a bent over position into the wall. He felt his underwear coming down as Jackson pressed the revolver to the side of his head. "Hurry up Wilks, I aint had a piece of ass in months."

"Shut up and hold his head while I butter him up, this old boy is dry as a bone." Wilks replied.

Suddenly footsteps pounded down the length of the trailer and someone hit Wilks in a flying leap, knocking him back into Jackson. Gregory collapsed to the floor and rolled over to see the American helicopter pilot drawing a pistol from his belt. Wilks kicked the gun out of his hand as he brought it to bear and dove on top of him pulling a military fighting knife from his boot. The pilot was clutching the arm Wilks had kicked as the knife blade pressed against his throat. "Don't kill him for Christ sake, he's the only helicopter pilot we got." Jackson said from the floor.

Wilks pulled back the knife, still sitting astride the pilot. "You say one word about this honky, and I swear I'll kill you." Wilks picked up the pilots pistol and climbed off of him, then said, "Come on Jackson, the show's over." They walked to the door of the trailer, leaving the stunned pilot and Gregory lying on the floor. Wilks paused and turned back, "Lock the door on your way out."

After they had left the American sat up groaning still holding his left arm to his chest. "Thank you. " Gregory said.

The pilot looked at him with a slight grin. "That Wilks is one big black sonofa gun aint he? I think he broke my arm."

He got to his feet and walked out the door, closing it behind him. Gregory heard the chain rattling again as it was relocked. He pulled his pants back up and rolled onto his mattress facing the wall. Hanging was looking better all the time. Nobody brought him any breakfast.

I was near the chow line when Jackson, Wilks, and Randy came walking up. Jackson was grinning like a possum.

"How'd it go Wilks?" I asked.

"Man Nick, we ought to get an oscar for that performance. I'm thinking maybe there's a career for me in the WWF after the war. Maybe me and Randy could do a tag team thing."

I just grinned and looked at Randy, "He bought it then?"

"Hook, line, and sinker. he replied.

"Well after you get through eating get on over to the med shack. Doc will be waiting to fix you up with a cast on that arm. I already left the pistol with him." I looked him in the eye, studying his face. "You still OK with this Randy?"

He pulled his pipe out of his pocket and replied. "It's a dirty job but somebody's got to do it."

I studied his face a moment longer, then nodded and walked away.


Gregory was still laying on his matress late that afternoon when the chain rattled again, the stench of his unemptied waste bucket filling the trailer. Ballard came in with a tray of food while another man stood at the door with a rifle. This was the first time he had ever delivered food to Gregory, Jackson normally did it.

He handed the tray to Gregory and stepped back. "I know you speak english. I just wanted to tell you the helicopter pilot narced out Wilks and Jackson to Nick. He's got them out on a listening post till after the execution. They won't be bothering you again."

Ballard walked back out the door and waited outside while Gregory ate. In his minds eye Gregory could see the American pilot lying on the floor saying, "That Wilks is one big black sonofa gun, aint he?" and Wilks saying "If you say one word about this I swear I'll kill you." Wilks wasn't the joking kind. The pilot had signed his own death warrant.

Wilcox had finished with the bomb. I watched as Jackson test fitted the false bottom into the crate. He and Ballard had already sheathed it in plywood and painted red crosses on all four sides and the top. Across the lid and the front and back were stenciled the words "MEDICAL SUPPLIES", a series of meaningless numbers, and finally "AMOXCYLLIN 500 MG 200 BOTTLES". The bottom fit perfectly, about eight inches below the rim. "That will work. Good job men, go get some breakfast."

I turned to Doc as they walked off. "You are clear on the plan Doc?" I asked.

"I got it Nick. Make sure he sees the bottles in the crate before I close the lid." he replied.

I stopped and thought for a moment, then said. "Well I guess we got all the bases covered. I'll have Gregory over at the med shack around ten."

"Ok, I'll be waiting." he replied, and walked off towards the wall.

Deacon opened the back door of the CP and we walked inside. Over his shoulder he said, "You seem a little down this morning Nick, having second thoughts about the mission?"

"No," I replied. "I've come to grips with my problems over nuking the base. It's just that I've never manipulated a man's mind before, especially knowing I was sending him to his death."

"War is a hard thing Nick. Just remember you've got to live with yourself after it's finished." he replied.

"I got a good support group, Deacon. I'll make out."

I picked up my maps and headed out for the airfield in my humvee to file a flight plan and make sure my A-10 was ready to go, stopping outside only long enough to tell Wilks to get the bomb loaded on the Hind and make sure the switches were armed before they covered it with the empty bottles. The field was bustling as the armorers loaded up cluster bombs on Evers' planes. I drove to the tower and turned in my flight plan, making sure they knew the Hind would be involved in the operation, then went to Evers office. His pilots were gathering for a pre-mission briefing so I made it quick. "Got a minute Roger?" I asked.

"Just that, he replied. "We have a hot mission in Oklahoma, Chinese supply convoy."

"Ok, I just wanted to let you know I'm taking the Hind and my plane out on an op. We're going to look for targets of opportunity down south of Jasper."

" There shouldn't be any conflict with that, we are headed West. Good hunting." he replied.

"You too." I left to find Jesse.

He was arming a plane on the flightline when I located him. "Hi Jesse, my bird ready to roll?"

"Hi Nick, yep, she's gassed up and armed. I'll be busy with this for a while if you don't mind pulling the ejection seat pins yourself." he replied with a grin.

"No problem, it'll be a couple of hours yet. Thanks Jesse, gotta run."

"Take it easy Nick."

I headed back down to the camp to hook up with Randy. "Looks like we're a go Randy. I'll meet you at the trailer at 0900 and we'll get the operation underway."

"Ok Nick, I'll be there." he replied.

Back at the Hind Wilks, Jackson and Bradford had completed loading the bomb crate and were piling empty cardboard glucose boxes in the rear of the cargo hold. I watched as they lashed them down to the cargo ties. They had hauled the bomb over in the front bucket of the backhoe and it was parked nearby. Several of the Refugees were standing around watching them work and asking questions. I walked over to the Refugees and said, "If yall don't mind this mission is a matter of life and death. Please just let the men work and go about your business."

They wandered off in various directions and I said to Jackson. "You and Wilks get out of sight till this thing is gone. Ballard can finish up here."

He nodded and they headed for one of the semi trailers to hide out. I climbed into the pilots seat and checked to make sure the Makarov was still under the preflight clipboard in the map compartment. It was there, fully loaded with the oil filled cartridges I had taken apart and reassembled on my reloading setup two nights before. They looked just like live rounds but wouldn't fire. I replaced the pistol in the compartment and told Ballard not to let anybody screw around in the cockpit till Gregory got there, then walked over to the CP. I layed out my flight gear and told Deacon to come and get me at the helicopter as soon as they started the preflight.


Everything was now in motion so I walked over to the tent to say goodbye to Amy and kill a little time before my meeting with Gregory. We talked for fifteen or twenty minutes and it was time to go see Gregory. I kissed her goodbye and left to meet Randy at the trailer, stopping to get the keys from Ballard on the way. I also had a clean Russian uniform for Gregory. "You got the gun?" I asked him before we approached the trailer.

He patted his sling and said, "Right here. Fits like a glove."

Doc had wound a piece of stiff wire into the cast which encircled the barrel of the .38 snubnose and the forward part of the frame. A thick rubber band looped back from the top of it to the rear of the hammer, securing it in place. The gun was mounted at a slight outward angle so it could either be fired from inside the sling or drawn first by a swift yank, breaking the rubber band. "Ok then, let's do it." We walked over to the rear of the trailer and I unlocked the door. Gregory was standing near his matress when I swung the door back and we walked inside. The bruises on his face had darkened to purplish color and one eye was swollen, but not too badly. "I have a deal to offer you." I said. "Let's step outside."

Gregory looked at me suspiciously, but he followed us out.

"Here's the deal." I said. "We picked up a shortwave transmission this morning from a small city a hundred and fifty miles south of here. They have been hit by an Anthrax attack from the Russians, and a serious outbreak is threatening the community. They have to have antibiotics right now to contain it and we are the only people who can deliver them on short notice. They are too close to the Russian airbase at Davis for the C-130 to attempt a penetration, so the Hind is the only thing we have which can get in and back out again carrying a cargo load. As you know Randy's arm was broken by Wilks in the fight, and you are the only person here who can fly the helicopter. Randy says maybe he can get it airborne and land it but no way can he fly it that far and back. If you will pilot the aircraft with Randy along as your guard I will commute your sentence, and you will serve out the duration of the war here as a prisoner. Both of you will be in quarantine for two weeks when you return, and you will recieve an antibiotic injection before you leave. Is this acceptable to you?"

Gregory studied my face for a minute, then Randy's. "Take the deal Gregory, it's not a combat mission and it will save your life." Randy said.

Gregory thought about it some more and said. "I accept, but this is a one time deal. I will not be one of your regular pilots."

"Ok then, follow me over to the showers and get cleaned up, then put this new uniform on. Doc will give you the injection afterwards and you will leave as soon as the helicopter is loaded out."

Forty minutes later we were standing at the helicopter as Doc looked through the medicine bottles piled in the top of the bomb crate. "Ok, I guess that's everything, lash it down." He closed the lid and jumped down out of the helicopter with his clipboard in hand. Digging in his pocket he handed a bottle of pills to Randy and said, "You and Gregory need to take one of these every six hours. Make sure you remember to land down by the river when you get back so we can decontaminate the helicopter."

"Ok, Doc, thanks." He turned to Gregory and said, "Let's preflight this thing and get moving or we won't make it back before dark. Go ahead and start on the cockpit and I'll do a walk around. Take the pilots' seat, I can't work the collective with this cast on my left arm."

Deacon came hurrying up as an A-10 lifted off the runway up on the ridge. "Evers is on the line and he wants to talk to you ASAP." He said.

I nodded and turned back to Randy, extending my hand. "Good luck, and be careful." We shook and then I said to Gregory. "No funny business up there, Randy has orders to shoot if you try anything." then turned away and jogged towards the CP.

Gregor climbed into the pilots seat and opened the compartment holding the preflight checklist as Randy moved to the rear of the helicopter, examing evey inch of the craft for anything amiss. He pulled the clipboard out and was stunned to find a pistol underneath it.

Gregory stared at the Makarov. He looked around to see if anyone was close to the cockpit, not seeing anybody near enough to see in. The rear cargo doors were closed and Randy was still looking at the tail rotor. He slipped the pistol out of the map compartment and pulled the slide back, exposing the rear of a cartridge in the chamber, then let the slide ease forward and dropped the magazine out of the butt. It was full of fresh ammunition. This was too good to be true. He looked at the primers, and they were unfired.

Gregory's little alarm bell was going wide open. He had learned a long time ago to trust his instincts, and something smelled really rotten about this deal. It was all just too pat. He thought back to when he was a Hind pilot in Chechnya, nobody had carried their hide out guns in the map compartment, that was the first place the maintainence crews looked. He placed the Makarov under his shirt and began to unscrew the two toggle bolts which held the instrument access panel closed. Still looking around for prying eyes. A few twist of the knurled knobs and it was open. He reached back into the wiring and felt the butt of a pistol. A smile crossed his face as he withdrew a CZ-72 9mm automatic from the recess of the instrument panel. It was fully loaded with old tarnished cartridges and rusted very badly.

Gregory switched the guns in his waistband and tossed the makarov back into the map compartment, replacing the checklist clipboard on top of it, then closed the access panel back up. He was grinning when Randy climbed in the co-pilots door. The American grinned back at him. "Feels good to have a future again don't it?"

"It sure does, everything look Ok? Gregory replied

"Yep, let's spin her up and get headed down south. First leg will be down the river valley to Jasper, then we just follow the highway south for 120 miles. Er, I guess about 300 kilometers in your reckoning."

Gregory nodded and hit the start buttons while holding down the primer. He had already powered up the panel. He let the engines warm up for a few minutes until his oil temps had reached operating levels and lifted off, climbing about fifteen feet and rotating the helicopter to face the valley before transitioning into forward flight. He turned down the river and stabilized his altitude at 1000 feet, then twisted the lock on the collective to free his left hand. "Can you take the cyclic for a moment?" he asked Randy over the intercom.

Randy nodded and took control, using his right hand on the stick as Gregory reached into his shirt and pulled out a pack of cigarettes Nickoli had given him. He fired one up and took a long drag, savoring the taste of the rich American tobacco. Randy looked over at him and smiled. "Enjoy the smoke, I can handle the chopper fine as long as we don't have to change altitude."

They continued down the valley at 220 knots enjoying the scenery. As they neared Jasper Gregory looked over at the American and asked, "How far will they have us under radar coverage?"

"This is about as far as it goes, the hills and mountains pretty much block it out from here on." Randy replied.

Gregory smiled and pulled the automatic from under his shirt, pointing it at the American with his left hand while laying his right hand back on the stick. The smile melted off of Randy's face as he looked at the CZ-72. Gregory thumbed back the hammer and said, "I want you to very slowly remove your pistol from the holster and throw it out the window."

Using his right hand Randy slid the cockpit vent window back, then eased his Colt Python out of the cross draw holster with his forefinger and thumb. He held it out the window and let it drop. He was being very careful, for he realized the gun in Gregorys' hand wasn't the same one Nick had planted. "Look Gregory, I don't care if you take the helicopter and escape, but just let me out first OK?"

They passed over Jasper and headed south down the highway for about five miles, then Gregory ordered Randy to land the helicopter on the road. "I can't work the collective with this broken arm." Randy protested.

"There's nothing wrong with your arm, what kind of fool do you think I am? Land the helicopter or I will shoot you now and land it myself. We're going to have a look in those crates before we go any farther."

Randy took control of the helicopter, having to lean far to his left, and began a shallow dive towards the highway, at thirty feet he levelled and rode the ground effect with the nose up bleeding off speed, then flared and settled onto the pavement. "Don't kill the engines, just get out." Gregory ordered.

Randy nodded and opened his door to step down, reaching into his sling and grasping the butt of the .38 special as he turned to exit. The area between his shoulder blades tingled in anticipation of the killing shot. But Gregory didn't fire and he was on the ground. Randy turned to his left as if to slam the door and shot 3 rounds through the sling as fast as he could pull the trigger.

Gregory was backing out his own door when the slugs began to hit him and he was hurled backwards onto the pavement, firing his pistol as he fell. His bullet struck the tempered glass of the cockpit winshield and richocheted with a high pitched whine past Randys' head as he dove to the ground. He hit flat on his belly with the .38 extended out in front of him, But Gregory was down for the count. A pool of blood was rapidly expanding around him as his legs quivered and he gasped for air.

Randy got up and walked around the chopper, then kicked the pistol away from Gregorys' body. Gregory looked up at him with a dazed expression on his face, and motioned weakly with his hand for Randy to come closer. Randy knelt by his side and leaned his head down to hear what he had to say. The noise from the rotors drowned out the words but Randy could read his lips plain enough. "What is in the crate?"

Randy smiled down at him. "A nuclear bomb." he yelled. He stood back up and took careful aim at Gregorys head, then squeezed the trigger. Gregorys body gave one last spasmodic jerk when the slug hit his skull, then was still. Randy tossed the pistol on the pavement and climbed into the pilots seat of the helicopter. He pulled the sling over his head and threw it outside where it was caught in the rotor wash and danced around the helicopter, then pulled the hidden zipper in the bottom of the cast and slid it straight down off his arm. The co-pilot door was still open so he got out and closed it, then back into the pilots seat and lifted off, heading South. He was going home.

I was five miles back just coming over Jasper when the radio came alive. It was Randy. "Little change of plans here Nick, I had to shoot Gregory."

"You OK?" I asked, a sinking feeling in my chest.

"Yeah, I'm fine, he's dead."

"Well, return to base and we'll think of something else."

"I don't think so, Nick." More sinking feeling.

"What's the name of that town where the Russian airbase is?" Randy asked.

"Davis." I replied "Look don't even..." It suddenly clicked. Davis was also Randy's last name. Towns are named after people, usually people who live there, the first ones who live there. "Randy just bring the chopper back to the base, there's no need in this. We can find another way."

"No, I'm tired Nick. I'm going home. Look at it this way, at least you'll be sure of an airburst. Won't have all that dirty fallout to deal with."

I pushed the throttles full forward, searching the sky ahead of me for the Hind. I finally spotted him a thousand feet below and a mile ahead running right down the middle of the highway. I lined up on his left side and dropped down, slowing the plane as I approached to match his speed.

Pulling alongside I could see Randy through the blood smeared cockpit window, puffing on his pipe. "Think about what you're doing Randy." I said.

"My minds made up. I'm the last of my line, I got a bad ticker, and I'm sterile. The Russians have probably killed most of the towns population, Lord knows they have everywhere else they've been. Time for some payback."

I'd been hearing that word a lot lately, "Payback"

"I won't detonate the bomb Randy. You can't do this alone."

"Yes you will. You don't have any choice. Now just shut up and let me enjoy the flight in peace."

I flew alongside him until we were fifty miles out from the airfield, then wagged my wings and fell off into a left turn, starting a holding pattern. "I won't be able to communicate with you after I punch in the codes." I said.

Randy looked down at his watch and checked his position on the map. "Give me fifteen minutes from my mark, then detonate."

I circled in silence waiting his signal. "Mark. copy?"

"Copy." I said.

"Bye Nick, take care of those people."

"See you on the other side of the mountain Randy, someday."

click


click click. I punched the codes into the radio.


Randy entered the long valley leading up to Davis, holding a steady 300 feet of altitude. He hadn't been down this way since his mother had passed away two years ago, and from the air it looked a lot different anyway. But still he began to see things he recognized. Most of the outlying farms were flattened and scorched from the months of combat, but a few survived. As he drew nearer to the twin mountains he had to feed a steady climb into the chopper to maintain his altitude. He began to see Russian tanks and self propelled artillery dug in along the river. The troops looked up and waved as he flew over, or just ignored him, another Hind in an endless stream. Ten miles from town he began to climb hard, and by the time he reached the city limits he was at 5000 feet.

His radio began to spit Russian, at first inquiring, then demanding. He turned it off. The high school moved lazily beneath him as a MIG-29 circled in to come alongside. Randy glanced down at his watch and waved at the Russian pilot. He was saying something into his microphone. The Afterburners lit on the MIG and he leapt ahead, then began a long turn to come around. Randy looked at his watch again, twenty more seconds. He locked the collective and grasped the stick between his knees, the helicopter fishtailing under the unsteady pressure as his feet wiggled on the rudder pedals. He lit his pipe and looked out the window, searching for his childhood home, following the streets till he found it. There was a Russian tank parked in the yard.

I keyed the mike.

Chapter 8:


A GLIMPSE INTO HELL


"Two nuclear bombs of unknown yield." That was what Gunderson had said. Well, it wasn't unknown any more. They were Big Ass Bombs. I had orbited for ten minutes after Randy proceeed on, then turned to follow him at reduced speed, right down on the deck. I didn't want to be so close as to be blasted out of the sky by a MIG or a SAM, but I wanted to be close enough to be certain my radio transmission would detonate the bomb.

As the last minute ticked off on my watch I once again wheeled the plane into a U-turn and throttled up into a climb, facing the aircraft away from the mountains. At 30 seconds to go I leveled the plane and set the autopilot, then pulled the flat black painted safety glasses from my pocket and put them on, lowering my helmet visors over them. I mentally counted off the last ten seconds and keyed the mike.

Even the two visors, the paint covered lenses, and the sideshields of the glasses couldn't stop the flash. Searing light raged in around the frames of the glasses for several seconds, then began to fade. My scalp crawled as the static charge engulfed the plane. I took the glasses back off, leaving the visors down, and flipped off the autopilot, waiting for the shock wave. I didn't have long to wait, it was vastly weakened by the distance, but it still buffeted the plane as it passed. I could see the reflection of the inferno behind me in the canopy, growing larger by the second. I couldn't stand it, I had to have a look.

I banked the A-10 around and stared at the outrageous mushroom cloud I had spawned. The nuke had detonated squarely between the two mountains and they had reflected the blast back upon itself, forcing the energy yield to flee down the valley. Now the malestrom had reversed itself, feeding the huge vacuum underneath the fireball. The reverse slopes of both mountains were engulfed in living fire. I switched to bottled oxygen as I approached.

Hurricane force winds had whipped up a duststorm which was racing towards the crater, huge trees and other debris sucked along in its path, blazing as they flew. I felt the claws of the wind clutch at the Tiger, and I banked out of the valley at full throttle, aiming to go around the shoulder of the North mountain. The fireball was dying out and it began to grow unnaturally dark. I flipped up my visors, but the darkeness continued to deepen as the mushroom cloud blotted out the sky. I looked down at my fuel guage and noted the drop tanks were empty, but I still had three fourths of the main tank load. I punched off the empty tanks and throttled back and continued around the mountain, staying about five miles away from it. The forest below was burning furiously, as was the side of the mountain shielded from the main blast.

As I reached the midpoint of the mountain I saw a Russian MIG coming towards me from the other direction. Apparently doing the same thing I was. Neither of us made any aggressive movements and we passed at about a quarter mile abeam. This place had seen enough death for today, and I suspect he didn't want to get into a cannon dogfight any more than I did this close to ground zero. Our missiles would be useless with all the heat around us, and his radar guided munitions wouldn't work with the atmosphere this ionized. Or maybe he was simply blind, having no forewarning of the blast.

I passed over a large lake with steam boiling off its surface, a marina complex burning on the shore, its buildings flattened. The forest fire extended out about fifteen miles from the mountain, nearly to the horizon from my altitude.

I came out from behind the North mountain and passed into the West valley, the winds had subsided to gale force. There was no trace that an airfield or a town had ever existed in the crater. Even the pavement of the roads and the runways had burnt or been blasted into oblivion. I banked back the way I had come, I had seen enough. The Russians were finished here.


Jackson was livid, outraged over the death of Randy. "I can't believe that communist bastard wouldn't stop and let a man out who had saved his life and saved him from being raped. What went wrong?"

I shrugged my shoulders and replied, "Randy never said. I guess we'll never know. I do know he was one brave man, and we all owe him a debt of gratitude. It was only a matter of time before the Russians decided to do the same thing to us."

"But probably on a smaller scale." Deacon added dryly.

I looked at him with a wry grin. "It was a little bit on the side of overkill. But who knew?"


The door flew open, banging into the wall, and there stood Evers. He looked like he was going to have a stroke any second. He pointed a shaking finger at me and struggled to speak coherently, his voice trembling. "You did this." he said.

"NO," Wilks replied, "WE did this."

I held up a hand to stop Wilks, and advanced towards Roger. "Lets take this outside Roger, we need some privacy."

He nodded and we walked out, I led the way around the building and down towards the cemetary. Roger slowly got his emotions under control as we descended the hill. "What if the Russians decide to retaliate and it all starts again?" he asked quietly.

"They won't. They are finished here. It's only a matter of time now."

He stopped and I turned to face him. "Why didn't you tell me Nick?" I could hear the hurt in his voice.

I looked him in the eye and replied. "Roger I like you, you are a good man and a fine warrior. But you're a company man, and you would have stopped me. It had to be done, the price of continuing this war is just too high. At some point you have to stop and rebuild, while there is some small amount left to work with. Another year of this and we would have been back in the dark ages. I shudder to think how many will die this winter alone, even if the war is finished."

"You know they'll either have you killed or make you a King." he said.

"That's the trouble with you Englishmen," I replied, "you're so damned indecisive."


He gave me a rueful smile and we walked on down to the Cemetary."I'm sorry about that scene at your command post, it's been a very trying day. We lost Charlie Bowen on the mission, and then as we were returning home we saw the top of the mushroom cloud growing down South."

"Did he get out of the plane?" I asked

Evers nodded, "Yes he ejected, but he is behind the lines. We circled as long as the fuel held out shooting up a few Chinese who were attempting to close on his position, but in the end we had to leave. If they haven't killed him by now they soon will. They aren't taking any prisoners."

"Does he have an emergency radio?" I asked, "Maybe we could go and get him. Where exactly did he go down?"

Evers shook his head, "He ejected about forty miles west of Ft. Smith on the South side of the Interstate. That's a good 30 miles behind the lines, and we don't have any rescue choppers. All we have are the A-10's and of course they are single seat."

"We could airlift my Russian vehicles in the C-130 to the rear of our lines, then drive the rest of the way. I have a bunch of Russian uniforms and weapons. The Chinese won't know the difference, we're just a bunch of white guys to them."

Evers looked at me for a while and said. "I can't ask you to risk your men on a job like this."

"You didn't ask, and I won't take anyone except volunteers. We will need your intel officer though, or someone else who speaks Chinese. And we'll have to liason with the Army so we don't get shot to hell passing through the lines."

A glimmer of hope started to show on Rogers' face. He and Bowen had been wingmen for years, and had faced death together countless times since the war broke out. I knew he would take gambles for Charlie he wouldn't even consider for any other pilot, he couldn't help it.

"All right Nick, you've convinced me. We might just be able to pull this off. I'll send the F-16's in to see if they can establish radio contact with Charlie, and if he is still alive we'll give it a try."

I grinned and held out my hand, saying "Still friends then?"

He shook it with a firm grip and replied, "Yes, just next time you decide to start a bloody nuclear war give me a little notice, won't you?"

Evers and I parted company back at the CP, he to launch his fighters and I to get the APC's loaded out and ready to roll. I avoided Amy as I knew this was going to be a hell of an argument when she found out. I caught up with Ray and asked him to see if any of his men wanted to volunteer for a rescue mission behind Chinese lines, no married men would be considered. "You're not seriously considering going on this op are you?" Ray asked.

"Yes, I'm going. But keep it quiet, Amy doesn't know yet. I'll break the news to her after I get all my ducks in a row."

"Well if you're going, so am I." Ray replied.

"No you are not. You have a pregnant wife here to take care of and you're staying behind. End of discussion."

I could see he was angry, but he nodded his head and set out to look for volunteers. I walked down to the APC's and got the driver on duty to bring one up to the semi-trailer we had stowed the Russian uniforms and arms in. We loaded up two light machineguns, 20 AK-74's, a couple of crates of grenades, three stinger missiles, four thousand rounds of ammunition for the AK's, four thousand on belts for the MG's and a crate of AK magazines.

I left him and a couple of riflemen loading the magazines for the AK's while I and another loaded all the Russian uniforms in my humvee and drove them down to the river. I drove the humvee out into the water until it was up to the bottom of the doors, then got out and we started dunking the uniforms in the water to drench them good. Next I backed up onto the bank and we threw them out in the mud, then I drove the humvee back and forth over them to grind it in. If we were going to masquerade as survivors from the nuke attack I wanted us to look the part. We threw the filthy uniforms on top of the humvees' hoods and headed back up to the second Russian APC, where we threw them inside. I told the driver to take my helper and go load the APC out with enough MRE's to last twenty men two days and a fifty five gallon barrel full of fresh water. Wilks came trotting up as I was getting back into my humvee so I motioned for him to join me inside. The movement of the APC's had caught his attention and he wanted to know what was going on.

"Evers wingman was shot down behind Chinese lines west of Ft. Smith. We're going to see if we can extract him." I said.

"OK, when do we leave." Wilks replied.

"You're not going, I can't pass a black man off as a Russian."

"I'll stay inside the APC unless we have to fight." He said.

"NO, and that's final. We may have to go through checkpoints where they want to look inside the vehicles."

Wilks pouted. I tried not to smile and drove back to the CP. Wilks got out and I called Amy over, "Hop In baby, lets go for a ride." I wanted her away from the camp when I broke the news, this could get loud. I drove up past the front gate and turned right, away from the airfield. About a mile down the county road I stopped at a scenic overlook and we got out. She was looking at me suspiciously as we walked over to a picnic table and sat down. "Well, spit it out." she said.

"Baby you know Evers wingman, Charlie, well he got shot down this morning over near Ft. Smith. Roger has some planes headed that way to see if he is still alive, and if he is we're going to take the APC's and get him."

"Why can't Roger just take one of the trucks and go get him?"

"Mmmm, well he's kinda behind the Chinese lines a little ways, and we need to look like Russians to be able to pick him up." I mumbled.

"What? Did you say behind the Chinese lines? No way!, You are not, and I mean NOT, going to go galavanting off impersonating a Russian and risking your life fooling around behind Chinese lines. Are you clear on that?"

"I've got to honey, if the Chinese find him they'll kill him. They don't take any prisoners." I wished as soon as I said it I could call it back. Extract foot from mouth.

"Which is all the more reason why you can't go." She said in triumph. "If they didn't shoot you for impersonating a Russian, they'd just shoot you for being a general idiot. Or chop your head off like they did those refugees from Tulsa."

"We don't know for a fact they chopped their heads off, maybe its just another unfounded rumor. Hell it would be a lot quicker to just machinegun them."

"Don't try to change the subject. Now this discussion is over, would you drive me back to the camp please?"

"I'm going on this mission Amy."

"We'll see about that." she replied.

I drove her back to the camp, wondering the whole way what the hell she meant by that. Word had spread throughout the camp about the mission, and volunteers were gathering up outside the CP. Almost all of them appeared to be in their early twenties, some were from the Ft. Smith guard detachment. Amy got out of the humvee and tried her best to tear the door off slamming it. She stalked off in the direction of Maggie's tent as I walked over to the gathering, noting quite a few half hidden grins in the crowd. It's hard to look commanding when your wife is throwing a hissy fit.

I looked the bunch over to see what I had. McKenzie was there I was glad to see, along with his regular army tank crew. That made five right off the bat. Both of the APC drivers, two men from the rocket team, about ten or fifteen riflemen from the refugee crowd, Daniels from the origional command APC team, and one of the Russian medics. More were still drifting this direction from behind the wall.

The Russian medic had of course been on Gregory and Norberts medevac bird when we captured it. Norbert had convinced us the man could be trusted before being killed in the collision, so we had more or less adopted him as a regular member of the medical staff. Sergi had also been a convict impressed into the Russian army against his will, he was Serbian by birth. He had been picking up english pretty good and could make passable conversation. The other medic was a lot more hard core so we just shipped him off to the prisoner of war camp at Branson on the C-130.

I called him over while I waited for the rest to arrive.

"Sergi, you realize if they catch you they won't just kill you. They'll make it as long and painful a process as they can." I said.

"I know boss. I shoot self if being captured." he said seriously.

"OK, just as long as you understand what you're getting into." I replied.

He nodded his head and smiled. "This mean I can go?" he asked.

"Yes, we need a medic, you can go."

"Thanks boss, for you trust me."

I smiled and we waited in silence another ten minutes till the flow of volunteers had died off to a trickle, then I addressed the crowd from the porch of the CP. "I want to thank each of you for volunteering for this highly dangerous mission. Obviously we can't fit all of you into the two APC's, so some of you won't get to go. I need certain key personell, such as Sergi for medic, Two APC drivers, Daniels for radio operator, A stinger man, you can flip a coin between you, and Sergerant McKenzies' team to act as a core element. I will let the rest of you draw straws to fill the remaining slots unless someone has a better suggestion. I can take as many as 7 more men, no more."

I picked up the broom off the porch and broke the number of straws out of it required for the drawing, snapping 7 of them off short, and we drew right there. The seven winners? joined the others I had named off to the side and I dismissed the others, thanking them again for volunteering. When they had dispersed I turned to the extraction team.

"OK, yall go over to supply and draw some of those salvaged Russian combat helmets, boots, bayonets, field packs, dog tags, money, bedrolls, web gear, canteens, and shelter halves. Anything else they got that looks Russian. Load out your field packs with gear for a week. There are new AK-74 rifles for you in the APC parked at the end of the wall, as well as loaded magazines. Pick one up and clean the cosmoline off of it, then scratch it up so it looks good and used. If you haven't ever used one before take it down to the river and try it out. I think you'll find they are excellent weapons. You can mix a little American equipment in with your load out but don't overdo it. No more than you would expect to see a normal front line Russian soldier carrying. There is a pile of filthy Russian Uniforms in the other APC, see if you can find something that fits and wear it the rest of the evening. Don't anybody shave tonight, we want to look as haggard as possible. Yall try to get a good nights sleep and I'll see you here at 7 o'clock in the morning."

They drifted away as a group and I went to my tent to get some rest. It had been a long day. Amy wasn't anywhere around so I shucked off my clothes and piled up on the mattress for a nap. I woke a couple of hours later to a grinding noise which sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn't place. I poked my head outside and saw Ray cranking the handle of a homemade ice cream machine while Amy and Maggie lounged at the picnic table. I pulled on a pair of shorts and joined them. Amy said she had made some sun tea if I would like some and I nodded. She walked around behind the tent and brought back the pitcher. I hadn't had any sun tea in a while and it was good but a little bitter. I guessed the tea was getting stale. I ended up drinking nearly the entire pitcher by myself as no one else wanted any. It was well into the night by the time we had finished the ice cream and I was getting pretty sleepy again. The kids headed off to their tent and Amy and I turned in for the night after setting the alarm clock for five.

When I woke it was full daylight. I sat up with a start and looked at my watch. It was one o'clock in the afternoon. I jumped up and pulled on my pants, noting that Amy was nowhere to be seen. I couldn't figure out why nobody had wakened me, or how I could have possibly slept so long. My head was fuzzy and I couldn't seem to get moving. I finally got dressed and jogged over to the CP, where I found Amy, Deacon, Wilks, Ray, Maggie, and Doc sitting on the porch talking and laughing. I opened my mouth to ask what the hell was going on, but Amy cut me off.

"I told you you were'nt going. Now sit down and shut up unless you have something good to say."

I looked from her to doc and comprehension dawned on me. "You drugged me didn't you?" I asked in disbelief.

"No, We drugged you." Wilks replied.


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Jason Trimble Richardson Jr. PHD. was not a happy camper. He knelt with his head hanging down over the hole, trying not to look at the green rushing below him. The idiot loadmaster had told him to puke through the hole if he had to, but not to mess up his damn airplane. Another wave of nausea washed over him and he retched violently, but there was nothing left inside to come up. Evers looked at him sympathetically as he wiped drool and vomit from his chin with his handkerchief. Wind howling through the sprapnel hole had thrown his eject back at him, covering his Russian fatigues in a thin layer of slimy puke. It blended well with the layer of what had been dry mud. "I say professor, I don't understand why the dramamine hasn't kicked in yet. It's a bloody shame they drafted a man with vertigo into the Air Force, but that's the military for you. All the same I'm happy to have you along on this jaunt and my apologies for such short notice."

Jason flicked a piece of corn off his sleeve and dropped his sodden handkerchief through the hole, only to have it promptly shoot back inside and slap him in the face. Evers looked away quickly, but Jason had seen the grin on his face. He shoved the handkerchief in his breast pocket and wiped his hands on the rear of his pants as Evers got his facial muscles under control and turned back towards him. "I'm just proud to be here Evers." he said.

The loadmaster approached with a filthy mop and a bucket of water. "Hold still and I'll see if I can swab some of that mess off of you." he said. He dipped the mop in the bucket and began to run it up and down Jasons' chest, nearly knocking him over with the enthusiasm with which he worked. Evers got up and walked away, having lost all control. The wind from the hole whipped strands from the mop into his face and supercharged its stench into his nostrils. The loadmaster was whistling as he worked. Jason didn't recognize the tune. He dipped the mop for a fresh assault.

Evers dropped onto the pile of field packs beside Sergeant McKenzie, tears in his eyes as he tried to suppress his laughter. First Nick and now this. His plate runneth over. McKenzie looked at him and grinned, there was no need to say anything, everyone in the cargo hold had seen the show. "Who's idea was the mop?" Evers choked out.

"Gunderson thought that up himself, the man is a real pro." McKenzie replied. "I guess you realize we're going to be stuck in an APC with that stinking son of a bitch for at least a couple of days."

Evers fished in his pocket and produced a Christmas tree air freshener on a string. "No worries, Gunderson gave me this. We'll hang it around his neck after we disembark." Uncontrollable laughter shook his body as he spoke.

The entire squad broke up as the Christmas tree fluttered in the breeze dangling from Evers hand.

McKenzie finally regained some semblance of control, tears on his cheeks. "I wonder if Nicks awake yet?" he choked out.

"I doubt it, Amy put enough sleeping pills in that tea to knock out a horse. I'd have given anything to see the look on his face when he realized we left him behind though." Evers replied with a grin.

"He needed a break, he's been pushing way too hard. Doc says his blood pressure is way up and he tried to ground him but Nick wouldn't go for it. You know how he is." McKenzie said.

"Evers thought about it for a moment and replied, "I didn't realize he had a medical condition, we'll have to have a talk about that when we get back. I just hope he doesn't say anything stupid to General Ives when he arrives tomorrow."

"That ought to be a show in itself." McKenzie replied.


The C-130 landed on the Interstate about ten miles East of Ft. Smith. Evers and McKenzie walked down the ramp to meet the liason officer waiting on the ground as the men loaded their packs into the APC's. Richardson followed a little distance behind them, shaky on his feet.

The man gave a half hearted salute, unsure of the rank of Evers and his men. "Lieutenant Stevens, tenth armored. We cobbled together the transports you requested and if you will have your men load the Russian vehicles on board we'll tarp over them. We'll then convoy south of FT. Smith to the end of our lines and off-load you so you can enter the chicom flanks from the south. Your exit corridor will be here, north of Ft. Smith. The units in that area have been notified and your call sign will be victor to get clearance to reenter our lines. We will be monitoring 6350 for your call." He handed Evers the map and a piece of paper with the radio frequency and call sign. "Don't try to come back through till you have acknowledgement, those boys are pretty trigger happy after all they've been through. Let's get moving, smells like something died around here."

Evers nodded and McKenzie jogged off back to the APC's to get things moving. "Thank you Lieutenant, my men will be ready to go in fifteen minutes. I don't see any troop carriers, do you expect them to ride in the APC's while they are on the transports?"

The lieutenant looked at him like he was from another planet, then replied. "You aint from around here, are you?"

"RAF" Evers responded, still waiting for an answer to his question.

"All our trucks are tied up just keeping supplies coming in and distributed. We got 7000 men here, takes a lot of grub and water to keep em going. If you don't mind I'll wait in my humvee while yall get ready, this stench is making me nauseous. I can't imagine what the hell it could be, I aint never smelled anything quite like it."

Richardson shifted uncomfortably as the Lieutenant walked away. Evers handed him the air freshener. "If you would be so kind, perhaps you could hang this around your neck. The men are complaining of the smell."

Richardson looked at him in disbelief, "You can't be serious." he said.

"Quite." Evers replied.


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Brigadier General Gustav Ives sat in his Branson office, studying the Intelligence file on the Warlord in Arkansas. It was a very thin file. Two sheets of single space typed information with a few photographs. He looked up his aide and said "Run that tape again Paul."

Paul hit the play button on the vcr and a radar image computer superimposed over a map appeared on the screen. The tape had been constructed from the tapes of an AWACS orbiting near Memphis. Two highlighted targets designated as unknown suddenly appeared on the screen near Jasper Arkansas, headed South. They were separated by several miles but soon converged into a single blip, still moving south. The tape was running at accelerated speed so they were covering ten or fifteen miles per second.

As they neared the Russian Airbase at Davis the targets separated, one continuing on to the West up the river valley while the other orbited, after a second the second target began once again to move towards the airfield. The screen suddenly went white.

"That's the nuke detonation," Paul said. The tape resumed with two targets again designated, one moving southwest at high speed, the other on a straight line course over the mountains from the nuke site to the RAF airbase in North Arkansas. "Thank you Paul, that will be all for now." He waited till Paul had left the room and picked up the phone, studying the photographs in the folder as he waited for the connection.

"Westfield"

"Ives here, I just finished reviewing the material you sent over and I think you are right."

"Have you found any information on his background? Any connections to foreign governments?"

"No, I'm afraid our trail on him starts from the time of the engagement with the Russian armored column. We don't even know his real name, let alone his past affiliations. I did get some photographs from intelligence which were shot at the RAF base."

"Well we can't have a loose cannon with nuclear weapons in the game. His attack has completely disrupted our timetables for implementing the rest of the plan. If you can't bring him into the fold or reign him in, have him taken out. And make damn sure he doesn't have any more warheads. I don't know where he got the one he used, but where there's one there's usually more."

"Taking him out would be very risky, the man has developed quite a cult following among the military and civillians, even here in Branson. Kind of a folk hero. If word gets out it was him who nuked the Russian stronghold we could have a very powerful opponent on our hands, politically speaking."

"We don't want any revolts to deal with, if you must take him out maintain plausible deniability and try to pin the blame on the communist. And bury that radar tape. I have to go now, I have an appointment with the President in fifteen minutes. Keep me apprised of the situation as it develops.

"Yes Senator Westfield, goodbye."

Ives looked at the 8x12 color glossy of the man sitting in the Tiger striped A-10, a grin on his face and a flight helmet on his head. Mirror sunglasses hid the eyes. The photo was dated five days ago, with a note that it was taken just before the capture of the Russian Hind helicopter. "Who the hell are you?" Ives thought.
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Evers rode in the humvee with Lt. Stevens as they entered Van Buren and dropped off the interstate onto the loop. Several burned out tanks were visible in the fields to the north, and the wreckage of an Apache helicopter sat nearly on the off ramp. Two M1-Abrahms tanks were stationed below the ramparts of the overpass and a bradley fighting vehicle was parked in the median. As they proceeded south dessicated corpses lined the highway in ever increasing numbers. They were mostly dressed in civillian clothing. Burial teams were throwing bodies into mass graves at sporadic locations, but they appeared to be overwhelmed by the task. "What happened to all these people?" Evers asked.

"Chicoms launched vx gas artillery rounds on a refugee column. They were using quite a bit of that for a while, but they seem to have run out." Stevens handed him a nearly empty bottle of Vicks Salve. "Put some of this under your nose, it helps with the smell."

Evers rode in silence, appalled at the sheer number of dead lining the highway. There were thousands. Someone had run an angled blade or snowplow down the road shoving the corpses into windrows on either side to allow passage for vehicles. Ft. Smith was blasted into oblivion. Looking out to the right as they travelled down the loop there wasn't even a blade of grass survivng. Just a jumbled landscape of scorched rocks, twisted girders, and burned out vehicles. Some of the cars which had been pushed to the side on the loop had skeletons behind the wheel.

At the intersection of the loop and highway 71 they turned south again, past another platoon of M-1 tanks and armored personell carriers. Weary looking troops were sitting around the vehicles, some eating, some cleaning weapons. A mile south they passed a battery of self propelled howitzers which were firing to the West. Incoming artillery shells began exploding randomly a mile out from their position and the howitzers lowered their guns and prepared to move out as they passed. An F-15 strike eagle thundered overhead, laden with bombs. A stray artillery round exploded 150 yards to the East of the humvee with a deafening concussion. Stevens didn't even flinch.

As they continued south more and more destroyed tanks and APC's littered the landscape, bomb craters everywhere. Some of these had been taken out by Evers Squadron of A-10's two weeks before. It looked a lot different from the ground, more realistic. The pavement of the highway had been ripped to shreds in the battle and bulldozed aside later, leaving only the subgrade to drive on, and the houses along the way had been shelled into heaps of rubble. Finally the convoy stopped at the instersection of a county road guarded by a rocket battery and several tanks. "Well, this is where you get off. The chicom lines are three miles to the west. I wouldn't use the road, it's mined. If you bear a little southwest you will most likely pass to the south of the opposing positions and be running parallel to their flank defenses. The bulk of it is infantry, but they got plenty of anti-armor weapons. Good luck." Evers shook his hand and thanked him, then stepped out of the humvee into a pile of intestines.

The American G.I.'s manning the checkpoint watched with interest while the Russian APC's were unloaded, and what appeared to be Russian troops milled around them. All they knew was that this was a special op, they had no idea what unit was involved nor what the mission objective was. The popular concensus was that the entire group was at best insane, if not suicidal. No matter, what were 20 more dead bodies in a land where there was an endless abundance. You didn't have to go looking for death here, it actively sought you out.

Richardson had been monitoring the radio for Chinese transmissions during the ride south, and had gotten an earful. While inter-unit communications and divisional command frequencies were encoded, the troop level radios did not have that capability and were transmitting in the open. It was mostly meaningless chatter, but the sum total of it indicated the Chinese were repositioning forces for a major movement of some sort. He outlined what little he had gleaned to Evers and McKenzie as the equipment was readied for departure.

Evers studied the map Stevens had given them, noting that known minefields and enemy troop and armor deployments had been penciled in. He drew a red circle at their present position and another at the last known location of Bowen.
A red x in roughly the center of the three sided box formation of the Chinese was labebeled "Extermination center" in red ink. Evers didn't know for sure what that meant but he didn't like the sound of it. The "x" lay nearly on a straight line between the two circles he had drawn, near the halfway point. It looked like about 65 miles to Bowens position from here, and another 40 down the interstate to the extraction point he had been given.

He folded the map and put it into his pocket as he asked, "You've got the story down Richardson?"

"Yes, we are an advance recon element for a survivng armored column from the nuclear attack on the base at Davis. We want permission from the Chinese to pass through their position so we can access Interstate 40 West, where our surviving units are to rendevous and regroup before trying to make our way to Olympia to link up with the mechanized infantry division there." He handed a set of Russian officers' insignia to Evers for him to pin on his collar, and another set for his own. Yours are for a lieutenant, mine a major. If you don't mind could I get you to pin them on for me, the arthritis in my hands is terible this morning."

"Of course, Major." Evers pinned the silver clusters on Richardson and then put on his own.

"If we have to do any talking with the Chinese face to face that Russian medic would be helpful. He will give me someone to translate to and issue orders to. I've already talked to him in the APC about it and he is agreeable if it is allright with you."

"Well if Nick trusted him enough to send him along I suppose we will have to abide in that faith. Shouldn't we give the Lieutenants insignia to him though if he will be your aid?"

"I've already made him a sergeant, that should do."

Evers nodded and said, Well, I guess we're as ready as we're going to get. We might as well get started." Artillery rumbled in the distance as they boarded the APC's.

Evers oriented the driver of his vehicle with the map and they set out, the other APC following close behind with McKenzie in command. None of the G.I.'s waved as they drove away.

They travelled ten miles bearing southwest, gradually leaving the destruction of the battlefield behind. It was slow going the first five miles as they were travelling cross country and had to backtrack several times to find their way around natural obstacles, but the running improved after they hit a dirt road headed in roughly their intended direction. Evers figured they were now far enough from the lines to be relatively safe from mines. When he decided they were far enough west to be completely free of the layered front line defenses they turned North, advancing with caution from cover to cover once more running cross country. At 3:00 a machinegun opened up on them and they retreated into a sheltered position as Richardson tried to establish contact with the Chinese position on the radio, broadcasting in the clear. He finally convinced them to send someone out to have a look, and a Chinese rifle squad came out to meet them.

Richardson conferred with them out on the ground for a few minutes, then re-entered the vehicle as the soldiers called back to their lines on a field radio. "They are going to guide us through an anti-armor minefield and deliver us to the company commander. He will provide an escort vehicle to take us North to division headquarters, where we will be handed off to another company escort from the Northern lines. We are to remove our machineguns from the pintle mounts and remain inside the APC at all times until requested to come out." he said to Evers.

Evers ordered the gun taken down as Mckenzie left to relay the information to his own crew. Within fifteen minutes they were crawling slowly forward behind the Chicom infantry squad. It took 45 minutes to reach the division command post, a bunker complex dug into the side of a rocky knoll. Here they were halted and a chicom soldier pounded on the door of the APC with his rifle butt for it to be opened. As Evers stepped out of the vehicle he could see they were centered in a semicircle of four Chinese M-80 tanks, all with their main guns aiming at the APC's. A group of Chinese officers stood seventy yards away, awaiting their approach. Richardson paused beside him, and in a low voice said, "It's showtime."


Lieutenant Jen Ho Li of the Peoples Liberation Army watched the two Russian officers approach. He had been summoned from his platoon, told he was needed as interpreter for a Russian recon group that had stumbled into their defenses. The Russians were filthy and disheveled looking, even more so than he was. As they drew to a stop ten feet away the the odor of mildew, sweat, stale mud, and vomit assaulted his nostrils. There was a curious tinge of pine mixed with it. Overall it smelled a lot like a Bejing Whorehouse. "Major Vladmir Sakarov, Russian Republican Army, 121st armored division. This is my aid Sergeant Sergi." the tall one said in excellent Chinese. He had a green cardboard cutout of a tree hanging around his neck. Jen wondered if it was some kind of religious thing.

"Lieutenant Jen Ho Li, 505th Infantry, Peoples Liberation Army" Jen replied in Russian, then switched to Chinese. "We are surprised to see you, from the size of that mushroom cloud that must have been a huge weapon."

"It was," the major replied. "The blast totally obliterated our forces except for my company and a few stragglers who were deployed on the North flank. Luckily the mountain shielded us from the worst of it. What we require is an escort through your position to Interstate 40. My orders are to recon a route capable of supporting our transports, then return to the main force to act as guide."

Colonel Chi broke in, having seen an interpreter wasn't needed. "It would seem the bulk of your surviving forces are south of you in the Texas territory, aren't you going in the wrong direction?"

"The Americans launched a flanking maneuver to our South immediately following the nuclear attack. We had no option but to go West or Northwest. If we went West the Americans would have cut us to shreds with their aircraft once we cleared the mountains, as all of our air cover was destroyed. Our company commander has made the decision that we will regroup on your northern flank and attempt the journey to Olympia, Washington, to link up with the 302nd Mechanized Infantry division which is dug in there. We hope the Americans will miss us in all the confusion by making such an unorthodox maneuver."

"So in other words you are just running away and looking for a way back to Russia." Colonel Chi spat out. He turned to Jen and said, "Lieutenant, ride with these cowards to the Northern lines, I'm not wasting any fuel on an escort vehicle." he turned on his heel and stalked away to the command bunker, followed by all the other officers except Jen.

An uncomfortable silence followed their departure, finally broken by the Russian Major. "I suspect your gung-ho Colonel would be a little more understanding if 6000 of his men had just been vaporized and he was outnumbered twenty to one with no fuel or ammunition reserves. Shall we go Lieutenant?"

Jen nodded and replied. "Let me get some unit pennants for your vehicles, we don't want any friendly fire incidents."

It was nearing 5:00 by the time they finally got underway again, with only a couple of hours of daylight remaining. Jen rode in the command hatch of the lead APC, relaying directions to the driver via The Russian major. The intercom system of the APC was on the fritz. He didn't mind, the air was a lot fresher up here than down below. By sundown they had travelled 40 miles to the North and he directed them off the road into a wooded gully between two rocky hills to make camp for the night. Between the mine fields, trigger happy tank commanders, and the American Apache helicopters, travelling after dark was nearly suicidal.

Jen climbed out of the hatch as the engine died on the APC. The Russian soldiers were gathering their field packs and disembarking from the vehicle, none of them speaking. Jen bumped one a little roughly trying to get past him to some fresh air and said, "Excuse me." in Russian. The man looked back at him nervously and nodded, saying nothing. Jen looked at the pile of American MRE's which had been uncovered by the removal of the field packs and his blood turned cold. He tried to act nonchalant as he walked away, headed for the deeper tree cover up the gully.

"Where are you going Lieutenant?" The major asked loudly behind him.

Jen turned and replied, "I need to relieve myself major, I'll be back in a moment."

The major raised his AK-74 and pointed it at him, "I'm afraid I can't allow that, your weapon please."

Jen looked nervously around him as the other soldiers stopped in their work and turned their rifles on him. He dropped his AK-47 to the ground and slowly raised his hands. "You'll never get out of here alive." he said in Russian.

"Then neither will you." The major replied, gesturing with his rifle for Jen to step away from the AK he had dropped. One of the other soldiers said something in english and two men advanced on him and began to pat him down for weapons after removing his web gear. "Just don't do anything stupid and we will release you when we clear the lines. All we're after is a downed American pilot, nothing more."

Jen nodded and replied. "I'm no hero major, all I want is to get back to my family in China. I won't give you any trouble."

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I had pouted for a while but everyone elses good humor eventually won me over. Truth to tell I was feeling pretty ragged, mentally that is, and needed a break. We passed the afternoon just chatting and joking on the porch, getting into a game of dominoes late in the evening. Afterwards we wandered over to the chow line for some supper and a lot of people kept coming up congratulating me on nuking the Russian airbase. Someone, most likely that worm Jackson, had spilt the beans. There was nothing to be done about it now, once something like that gets out it can't be contained.

Deacon and I got to talking about the improvements to the camp we had been putting off, getting some hot water for the showers being first on the list, followed by some winter housing for all these people. With any luck the war would be over by the time cold weather set in and a lot of them could just go home.

The showers were a cobbled together engineering marvel. Deacon had taken sackrete and mortared pvc pipes into the cliff face where the springs flowed out through cracks and crevices. These small feeder pipes were mostly about 50 feet higher in elevation than the camp, and the pipes came together into an ever increasing diameter main line which finally peaked at a 100 foot run of 12 inch supported on crossed timbers 45 feet in the air. From the end of this pipe it again stepped back down in size as it fell to the showers themselves, culminating in half inch feeders which fed the individual shower stalls. Ten in all, five for the men and five for the women.

The shower house was built of tin on piers over the old creek so the drainage just went straight through the pipes in the floor and off down the hill in the natural drain line. We had good pressure on the shower heads but if a lot of people had been showering before you the water was cold as ice. Most of us waited till late in the evening so the sun had time to at least take the bite out of the water. Of course we had feeder lines off of this run to several points in the camp with hydrants on them so we didn't have to waste electricty pumping water for cooking and miscelaneous. A couple of large galvanized 500 gallon horse watering troughs at opposite ends of the camp served to wash clothes in. We had a washing machine in the CP for the staff, along with a dryer, but there was no way it could handle the load for the entire camp. I figured folks understood that, and so far there hadn't been any complaints. Even though we had enough generators now to power everything on the place we couldn't afford to waste the fuel running them would take.

We talked over the housing problem for a while and finally decided the most efficient option would simply be to start hauling in epmty semi trailers and setting them up as trailer houses with wood heaters. It would take a lot less work and lumber to put a porch and door on them than it would to build a complete building from the ground up, and nobody was going to want to sacrafice their privacy in a barracks type setup. One thing was certain, we had to get out of those tents before snow fell.

The firewood operation ran 5 days a week and we already had more than 100 cords layed back so no doubt we would have plenty when cold weather finally did arrive. I had ceased the cutting around the camp and we were hauling it in with a semi and a lowboy from a few miles down the county road now. I didn't want to use up all our reserves near the camp if it turned out to be a really bad winter. Our wood heaters would be constructed from 55 gallon drums like the ones I used at deer camp back in Texas. Finding enough stove pipe was going to be difficult, but I figured we could improvise something if we couldn't find enough. The cooking was handled by propane piped directly from a delivery truck into some huge ranges we had salvaged out of a truck stop. I had buried the truck after piping it in the hole so there would be less chance of it blowing the place up if hit by gunfire. When it ran out we would just have to do something else.

Deacon said we had emtied two of the four fuel tankers since arriving, so we made a note to see if we could find any more while searching for empty trailers. Our food supplies were also diminishing faster than new stuff was being found, we would have to expand our search area. Our crops were doing well, we now had over 150 acres planted and some of the early producers such as the tomato plants were already nearing yield. Finding enough jars and pressure cookers to put the stuff back was going to be a full time operation for a couple of Ricks scavenging teams.


We had a goodly supply of meat in a couple of reefer units that was being managed by an ex Brookshires butcher. Between the cows and hogs and chickens we had rounded up no shortage seemed to be looming on the horizon. The park service had released a few thousand elk in the valley a couple of years before the war and they had supplemented our diet until our domestic herds increased to the point we could start butchering them. Only the laying chickens were fenced in, everything else just ran loose in the valley along the river. We had pretty much eradicated the local coyote population with our shoot on sight policy. There wasn't any shortage of guns to do the job.

Wilks came along during the discussion and mentioned that we hadn't checked out the Benton area yet. The main Wal-mart warehouses were located there and if they still survived we could harvest a regular gold mine of food, clothing, hell just about everything imaginable. I made a mental note to fly over in the tiger and check that out tomorrow, if they were intact we would start a salvage operation as soon as the rescue team got back. Might even enlist the C-130 for a cut of the spoils. That got me to thinking about the resue mission again and I finally wandered back to the tent and said a prayer for the safety of the men.

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McKenzie, Evers, and Jason climbed the tallest of the two hills in the fading light of the evening and had a look around. A few miles to the North of them a smoke column was rising from a small farming village, and artillery rounds were landing a couple of miles to the East. As it grew darker the imapcts began to illuminate the sky like lighting. Several tanks passed on the road below headed South, but didn't spot the camp. As full darkness set in flares and illumination rounds began to blossom low on the horizon to the East, and the artillery fire increased. The muzzle flashes of a group of guns several miles to the West were clearly visible from the hill. A SAM launched with a whoosh just half a mile back in the trees, the missile streaking skyward and then arcing over to the North. It didn't find a target and the engine burned out miles away. Helicopter rotors began to sound faintly as they descended the hill, the Apaches were on the hunt.

Evers moved everyone a couple of hundred yards back up the ravine away from the APC's. He knew all to well just how vulnerable they were to an Apache in the darkness. The radiant heat from the engines would shine like a beacon in their flir targeting systems. The hills shielded them from all but a nearly overhead hunter, but there was no sense in tempting fate. After eating and posting guards they settled in for the night, but no one got much sleep.
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Bowen was slowly going insane. He hadn't had a drink of water since a couple of hours before they left on the mission. He tried to calculate the hours but gave up in frustration, not able to concentrate even long enough to accomplish that simple task. He had crawled under the interstate the afternoon of the day he was shot down, using a drainage pipe in a heavily timbered ravine. Since then he had travelled up the ravine another four or five miles, searching for a pool of trapped water. It had been an exercise in futilty. Now the ravine had played out into the side of a hill and he could no longer swallow. His lips had cracked open, he had a pounding headache, and his toungue was so swollen he had difficulty keeping his mouth closed.

Daylight was approaching again, his second sunrise in enemy territory. It had been near a hundred degrees in the shade the day before and this one promised to be no better. He crawled a little farther forward in the brush and studied the dim light 75 yards away. There was no clearing, whatever it was it was right in the woods with him, under the canopy of the trees. He gritted his teeth and waited, taking all the will power he had remaining not to charge forward and take liquid from whatever source available.

Daylight finally arrived, and in the gloom he could make out the shape of a plywood and tin shack, no larger than a family van. The light had been seeping out around one of the sackcloth covered windows. After another agonizing period of time the door finally opened and a haggard skeleton of a woman stepped outside and started down the far side of the hill. Bowen stood up and followed her down, his Beretta in his hand. Suddenly his skull erupted in pain and the world spun past his eyes as he fell, losing consciousness before he hit the ground.

Emily tossed her filthy rag doll aside and picked up the shiny radio. Her mother and father were busy behind the shack with the strange man, but they had left his things unattended inside. She began to twist the knobs looking for the pretty music she remembered from before. Nothing but static came from the radio, and then a small red light began to flash. It was better than nothing so she watched it for a while and then tossed it back into the pile.

Bowen regained consciousness stripped butt naked and laying on a rough wood table. He struggled to sit up and heard the woman yell. "Damnit Roy I thought you said he was dead."

A lanky man loomed into his vision with a very large butcher knife in his hand. Bowen tried to raise an arm to defend himself but he was too weak and collapsed back onto his back. He barely felt it when the knife plunged into his chest. The last thing he heard was the woman yelling at Roy again, "Damnit cut his throat and bleed him out fore his heart quits you idjut."

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Evers and Jason were sipping instant coffee watching as the men remounted the machineguns on the APC's. Evers turned to Jason and said, "You seem a hell of a lot more adept at this kind of thing than any college professor I ever met."

"I was with military intelligence for five years, then pulled another ten with the CIA as a field agent. Capped that off with state department postings to Russia and then China during the Clinton administration. I got out when I saw all this was going to come down, just been killing time teaching foreign languages since, and building a reserve of food to ride it out. Just my rotten luck they put the new pentagon in Branson."

"Why didn't you leave the country if you saw it coming?"

"And go where? You're from overseas, you know how Americans are reguarded in foriegn countries, even supposedly friendly ones. How do you think those expatriots are faring now that the entire world is at war and the sugar tit has dried up? Besides all that I may be a cynical bastard but I'm still an American, some things are worth fighting for."

Evers didn't reply, there was no need. The men finished mounting the guns and they loaded up. Evers had Jen's hands tied behind his back with a rifle sling as they approached the village seen from the hill the night before. He put on the communist helmet and climbed into the command hatch, watching with his head barely showing as they entered the town. Chinese soldiers were standing around the looted stores, not a lot but enough to give them trouble if anything broke out. Several homes were burning and it appeared they were systematically looting the homes and then torching them. No one paid the APC's any attention, the Chinese army was full of Russian built equipment exactly like them.

As they came to the intersection of the main street Evers saw a pile of dead bodies in the road. Soldiers were dousing them with diesel preparing to burn them. He noted the unit patches on their arms were the same as Jens'. Their heads had been cut off and were in a separate pile. One of the soldiers had a womans head by the hair and was rubbing its face against his crotch as the others laughed. Down the street they passed another squad of sodiers marching an elderly man toward the slaughter while prodding him with their bayonets in the ass. Blood had drenched his pants. He saw McKenzie look back at him then duck back down. Someone tugged at his pant leg and he dropped back into the APC. It was Daniels, the radio man. "Bowens locator beacon just came on. I don't know what the hell he's thinking but it won't take the Gooks long to triangulate him."

Evers nodded and moved forward to the driver, "Step on it, we may not have much time." The driver accelerated around the other APC and both vehicles moved North at 45 mph.

Fifteen minutes after they exited the village they ran into the Interstate. There were no exit ramps just an overpass with a machinegun nest sanbagged in its center. Evers told the driver to ignore it and just go down the slope. According to his map they were five miles to the West of Bowens last position fix. Daniels was on the radio with Division command trying to get a triangulation on the signal. The four soldiers in the machinegun nest just shrugged their shoulders and watched the APC's roar down the interstate towards the American lines.

"Got it" Daniels said. "They make it six miles due North of the Interstate four mile markers down the road."

Evers pulled a more detailed county map out of his pack and started searching for a secondary road. It showed a forest service trail leading to a fire tower just two miles down, it circled in within a half mile of the plotted fix. He crawled over the jumbled packs to the driver and told him to cut across the median to the westbound side, then they began watching for the trail. It was easily spotted, an iron gate blocked its entrance with a forest service sign on it. They ran down the gate and roared up the twisting trail as fast as they could go. Within ten minutes they had reached the fire tower and McKenzie was taking a compass reading to the radio fix off the map.

Evers left four men to guard the APC's and Jen and the rest set off into the woods with McKenzie in the lead. Daniels had a field radio strapped to his back and was talking to Division again. "They say it aint moving that they can tell, another quarter mile or so dead ahead."

"Ok, everybody space out, it may be an ambush. Sergeant Mckenzie will take point." Evers said.

McKenzie moved forward more slowly now, trying to not make too much noise in the heavy underbrush. After another ten minutes they came to a small farm pond at the bottom of a hill. Evers could smell smoke and cooking meat, stomach growling at the familiar odor. They eased up the hill through the trees with safties off and rifles held ready to fire. Slowly the outline of an ancient shack began to materialize and McKenzie dropped to the ground behind a large Oak. Evers belly crawled up to him after motioning for the rest of the squad to hold position. They were about thirty yards from the rear of the shack and Evers could see smoke curling lazily from a large bar-b-que pit at the end of the building. "Looks like an old deer camp." McKenzie whispered in his ear

"Leave it to Charlie to hunt up a good meal." Evers whispered back.

A tall skinny man in bloody carhart overalls walked into view, a platter of freshly cut meat in his hands. He raised the lid on the pit and began placing rib sections on the rack. "I thought I told you to sharpen this damn bone saw Roy." a womans voice screeched.

The man didn't answer, just kept putting meat on the rack till the platter was empty, then walked back out of sight for another load. "Looks ok to me." McKenzie said. They rose up from behind the tree and Evers motioned the rest of the squad forward. He stepped into the small clearing behind the shack and saw the man and the woman off to the left sawing away at a carcass on an old rough lumber table. Neither of them had a gun in view so he and McKenzie walked forward, McKenzie giving a small whistle as they did so.

The couple looked up from their work with a panicked expression, then started to back away. "It's allright," Evers said with a smile, "we're just here to pick up Charlie." Something squished under his foot and he looked down to find he was standing in a pile of intestines. He heard McKenzie take a sharp breath and he looked back up to see the carcass now fully revealed, Charlies' head still attached to the boned out bloody spine. Evers pulled the trigger on the AK, joined immediately by McKenzie. They emptied the magazines on full auto into the murderous cannibalistic bastards.

The squad gathered up all the pieces of Evers best friend and piled them on the table, then drug dry wood from the surrounding forest and built a funeral pyre. Evers remained inside the shack collecting Charlies personal effects into a potato sack. He didn't cry, he was beyond that. McKenzie finally came in and got him after they had the fire burning good and hot.


Emily hid in her special spot in the hollow tree for a long time after the strange men had left. She finally decided they weren't coming back and walked around the house to squat beside the mutilated bodies of her parents. She stared at them for a good bit and then pulled the butcher knife out of her daddy's hand. She was terribly hungry.

Jen had heard the gunfire and was nervous as a cat on a hot tin roof when the squad finally reappeared out of the forest. His guards had been on the verge of shooting him and going to find out what was gong on. The fake Russian major talked to the other two officers briefly then walked over to him. "Well Jen, we're going home."

"This certainly looks like a good spot for you to release me, it would take hours for me to get out of here and find any help."

Richardson pulled his .45 automatic from under his shirt. "I'm afraid I can't do that." he replied. "We couldn't help but notice your men were slaughtering innocent civillians in that town we passed through, so I'm sure you'll understand why I'm going to shoot you now." He threaded the silencer onto the pistol as Jen sank to his knees begging for his life. It was a waste of time.

Using his county map Evers directed the APC's to another side road leading out the northern flanks of the chicom lines, then turned East back towards the extraction point. They reached the American lines before noon. A track APC picked them up as escort with another behind. No one had stopped them, no one even gave them more than a cursory glance. They hit 71 and turned back South to the Interstate, then East to their origional disembarkation point. Evers had radioed for the C-130 as soon as they cleared the Chinese lines, so there was nothing to do but wait. Daniels walked over to where he was sitting in the dirt and pointed towards a burned out house and metal building a couple of hundred yards out in a field. "That's where Nick got the cropdusters." he said,

Evers looked at the place for the first time and saw that a gravel runway ran behind the metal building. "Want to go have a look at it?" Daniels asked.

"No, you go ahead. I'd just like to sit here for a while." Evers replied.

Daniels started out across the field, looking to find his old friend Jennings if he was still around. The metal hanger was intact, perhaps they had moved into it after the house burned. He reached the hanger and shoved the heavy door back, peering into the darkness. The smell of rotted flesh drifted out. Daniels didn't want to go in, but he had to know.

Evers was still sitting in the dirt when Daniels walked back up to the Interstate. "See anyone you recognized?" Evers asked him.

Daniels just licked his lips and shook his head, then walked on back to the APC's.

Chapter 9: A MAN WITH A PLAN

General Ives completed his walkaround of his private Cessna 172 Skyhawk and climbed into the cockpit. He had elected to make the flight to the RAF base alone, considering his cargo. In the luggage compartment rested a Russian manufactured suitcase nuke. He didn't yet know whether or not it would be making a round trip. After warming up the engine he taxied out of the hangar and held on the rampart as he contacted the tower. "Branson control this is Skyking November Sierra Echo two niner six Bravo requesting clearance for takeoff.

"Roger that Skyking, you are cleared to proceed to Runway 2 North and hold for incoming traffic."

Ives throttled up the engine and pulled onto the taxiway, then turned right and rolled past a group of F-15's being armed with bombs. In the distance he could see a KC-110 circling in on final approach. He reached the end of the taxiway and throttled back at the turnaround, waiting for the tanker to clear the runway. It settled two hundred yards down from him, the wind from its passing rocking the light Cessna gently. Skyking November Sierra Echo two niner six Bravo you are cleared for takeoff. Climb to angels three on heading one five oh and maintain altiude until clear of the pattern. Over.

"Copy Angels Three on One Five Oh control. Initiating takeoff roll." Ives throttled up again and released the brakes, visually checking the flaps to make sure they were in the correct position as he turned onto the runway. The lightly loaded Cessna accelerated rapidly down the runway and he lifted it off at 70 knots indicated, retracting the flaps as he reached two hundred feet. At four hundred feet he banked to 150 degrees on the compass and continued to climb at full throttle till he levelled at 3000 feet. Ives throttled back to 70 percent power and held his heading and altitude for 10 miles then radioed the tower for clearance to assume his prefiled flight path to the south.


Richardson was feeling a little queasy, but nothing like the inbound flight had been. He had taken two dramamine an hour and a half before boarding the C-130, and another before they lifted off. He got up from his seat and walked back to the rear of the cargo hold where Evers was sitting alone. "Mind if I sit down?" he asked

"No, help yourself, but I'm afraid I'm really not very good company at the moment." Evers replied.

"Look Evers, I've got a kind of an unorthodox favor to ask of you if you don't mind." Richardson said as he sat down.

"Go ahead, I owe you one for dragging you into this mess."

"I want you to list me as killed in action on this mission. The war will be over soon, but I don't want to spend the next five or six months sitting in an office in the combined forces command center. I have family scattered around the midwest I need to check on, perhaps some of them are still alive." Richardson said.

Evers studied his face for a moment and then nodded. "I can understand that. One less paper pusher isn't going to cripple military intelligence too badly. But how are you going to get back to Branson without being spotted at the airport, that is where your house is isn't it?"

"I'm not sure yet, I think perhaps I'll have a talk with your friend Nick when we get back to your base. Maybe he can help me out."

"He probably can, he's a very rescourceful fellow. I suppose you should stay onboard the plane till after everything is settled down. The fewer people who see you disembark the less chance someone will blow the scheme. I'll tell Sergeant Gunderson what's going on so he won't be suspicious. He's pretty good at keeping his mouth shut."

"Thanks Evers, this means a lot to me and I really appreciate your cooperation. I'll leave you alone now to grieve in peace." Richardson said.

Evers watched him sway his way forward as the aircraft hit a little turbulence. He wished he could just walk away too, get on a plane and fly back to England leaving all his cares behind. Excepting that England was occupied by Russian and Chinese troops he would do it too.

At length the C-130 finally landed back at the RAF airfield, and Richardson stalled in the front of the cargo hold fiddling with his gear till the last of the troops had disembarked and the APC's were unloaded. He helped Gunderson sweep out the rear of the plane while Gunderson taught him the tune he had been whistling on the flight to Ft. Smith. Before he had finished learning the words a Cessna Skyking taxied up beside the rear of the C-130 and killed its engine. Brigadier General Gustav Ives climbed out of the craft and pulled a metal suitcase from the cargo hold. Evers walked out of the hanger to meet him, saluting and then shaking hands. Richardson watched with narrowed eyes as they walked towards Evers office. He well knew Ives, and he knew exactly what was in that suitcase and where it had been manufactured. He had killed the previous owner himself.

Evers led General Ives to his office, closing the door behind them as Ives sat his luggage on the floor and had a seat. "Really General I could have had one of my men carry your valise, it appears quite heavy."

"No, that's fine. I need the exercise, sitting behind a desk seven days a week doesn't exactly keep the old muscle tone up. How did your rescue mission come out? I heard you had a pilot down behind the lines in Ft. Smith?"

"Rather a resounding failure." Evers replied, "We not only lost our pilot but our interpreter as well. Are you aware that the Chinese are slaughtering civillians and refugees by the thousands in the territory they control?"

Ives nodded and replied, "Yes, we had heard rumors to that effect, uncomfirmed rumors. It's a sorry thing to have to let continue but we just don't have the forces to push them back to Mexico. The whole thing has boiled down to a stalemate for the forseeable future, we are just tied down on too many fronts."

"I would think the destruction of the Russian airbase and the armored division entrenched there would have drastically altered that situation. It seems the Divisions which have been containing them could either move south to break the Texas line and cut the Chinese supply routes or move north to combine forces directly against the Chinese.

Ives gave him a cold look and said, "Major Evers if you will attend to flying your airplanes I will attend to running the war. There are logistical problems you know nothing of which exert tremendous influence on where and when we deploy our troops." He lit a cigarette and continued. "As you know the reason I am here is to meet with this Warlord friend of yours. I am prepared to offer him a battlefield commission as a Lt. Colonel in the Army if he will submit his forces to government control. I understand some of his men are regular army and national guard, and that he has posession of American Army military equipment, including tanks and an A-10 Warthog. Do you think he will be amenable to my offer if we allow him to keep the equipment and personell?"

"I bloody doubt it. Nick is pretty much a lone wolf type operator. He values his freedom quite highly."

"Well, all we can do is make the offer and work from there. If you will show me to my quarters I would like to rest a while and will meet with him later in the afternoon if you would set up an appointment."

"As you wish, if you would follow me."

Richardson was still in the C-130's cargo hold when Evers and Ives exited the office and walked to a large tent a little ways back in the trees. Ives still had the nuke. He turned to Gudersun and said. "Do you think you could get a humvee and give me a ride to Nicks' base?"

"Sure, we aint going anywhere for a few hours yet. I could use a shower before we leave." He gave Richardson a big grin.

"Point taken Sergeant, I have to admit that was a spectacular job you pulled on me."

Ten minutes later they were headed down to the camp, Evers had brought all his gear and his clean clothes in a gym bag. He wanted to look a little more presentable when he met with the Warlord. They drove directly to the showers and cleaned up, then Gunderson left for the airfield after showing him where the CP was. Richardson dumped his AK-74 and field pack on the porch before knocking lightly and entering. A large black man was coming across the yard of the old farmhouse watching him closely as he went in.

I looked up from my desk as the door swung open, having been reading the after-action report McKenzie had written for me on the plane. He and Daniels were seated across from me drinking beer and waiting for my questions. McKenzie looked back over his shoulder and said, "You clean up pretty good Major Richardson. Nick this is our interpreter from the mission. Major Jason Richardson of Combined Military Command Intelligence. He's a pretty sharp cookie, best keep a hand on your wallet. Major Richardson this is our base commander, Nikoli Krushev."

Daniels and McKenzie cleared out from in front of the desk as Richardson walked over and shook hands with me. "Glad to finally meet you Nikoli." he said.

"Same here, just call me Nick, everybody else does."

"I hate to disturb your meeting but I really need to have a word with you in private if you can spare a few minutes."

"Would you mind walking while we talk?" I asked. "I haven't been out of this chair for three hours."

"That would be fine."

I turned to McKenzie and Daniels and said, "Yall can hang around here under the A.C. if you like. There's plenty more cold beer in the box."

Richardson left his gym bag on the desk and we went outside. I turned down the hill towards the cemetary. It was my favorite walk and the view kept my decisions in perspective. Richardson waited until we were clear of the command post and began. "They tell me you are the one who took out the Russian base at Davis with that nuclear warhead."

I looked at him and gave a reuful smile. "Word sure gets around quick, don't it.?"

"That was a hell of a thing you did, I mean it could take months off the war, and possibly saves millions of lives in the long run. But I'm afraid you've stepped into something you are not aware of. Do you know Brigadier General Gustav Ives?"

I looked at him again, unsure whether honesty was the best policy. This particular devil was still an unknown to me. His eyes looked open, so I gave it to him straight. "I never met the treasonous son of a bitch, but I damn well know who he is. He's been the driving force in the military behind this one world government movement and military downsizing for years."

Richardson grinned and said, "Well, at least you're familiar with some of the fundamentals of the game, so you'll understand what I'm about to tell you. There is a group of men here and abroad who wish to reduce the planets population to a few million and rule over the survivors as royalty under a feudal style system. They are immensely, unbelievably, wealthy and powerful. It is this group and their succubants who instigated the conditions which led to this war, indeed made it possible. You have thrown a tremendous monkey wrench into their plans by nuking that Russian base. The war was scheduled to continue until next fall, accomplishing the population reductions they have targeted for this nation through starvation and disease while at the same time consuming the remaining arms and munitions of all three combatants.

Even as we speak agent provacateurs in the western montain states are stirring up a secession revolt to further divide the country and open additional battlefronts in areas which haven't been hard hit as of yet. As I was getting off the C-130 I saw Ives talking to Evers. He is here now, with a suitcase nuclear weapon we captured from a Russian agent several years ago. I believe it is his intention to use that weapon to anhilate you and your people."

I listened with a sinking heart as he spoke. I knew the NWO crowd had been responsible for the war, and strongly suspected their motives were exactly what he was telling me, but I had come to the conclusion it was just too monstrous a plan for a human being to actually carry out. Let alone an organized group of them. I finally replied, "I knew they would probably try to kill me, but to blow up all my people and the RAF base too is just preposterous. Hell they could just wait until I fly out again and put a bomb in my plane or shoot me down. Why kill all these innocent people?" I realized the answer as soon as I said it, but Richardson added another twist.

Killing people is what they are all about. There is also the fact that you have become very famous in the surrounding states, mainly through information spread by the C-130 crew as they travel around. It would be a cakewalk for you to be elected Regional governor once word of your attack on the Russians is widely known. These people can not afford to have a major politcal base which is not under their control at this stage of the game."

"Tell me Richardson, where do you figure into all of this? Whats your angle?"

"I don't have an angle. I'm an ex-CIA agent who just wants to be left alone in peace. I like what you've done here, and I don't want to see it all destroyed. You have the beginnings of what it will take to rebuild this country and set the government back up as it was meant to be, a servant of the people instead of the overbearing parasite it had become. Ives doesn't know I'm here yet, so I would appreciate it if you didn't mention me. For now I'm going back up to the airfield and keep an eye on that nuke."

I shook his hand and said, "Thank you very much for the heads up. Please keep me posted on the whereabouts of that weapon."

We started back up the hill and I saw Evers walking down towards us. He didn't look happy.
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Ives removed his jacket and tie, then sat down on the cot provided in the tent and opened the lid of the Russian suitcase nuke. The instructions to set the timer were printed inside the lid in both Russian and English. It was a fairly simple setup, a programable digital display much like an electric alarm clock with a time delay function of up to 7 days. There was a battery level test button so he pushed it and the display read in the green. Once the timer was set all you had to do was push the clear button to stop the countdown. Satisfied he could operate the device he reclosed the lid and shoved the nuke under his cot, then stripped to his boxers and layed back for a brief nap. Sleep wouldn't come though, he kept thinking of Evers comments on how they could end the war quickly now the Russian base was gone.

The trouble was he was right and it would be blatantly obvious that the whole war was being intentionally dragged out if they didn't take some kind of action soon. Perhaps they could accelerate the secession movement to absorb the surplus of American military personell and divert ammunition and fuel to the new front. The only problem with that was that people would realize the secession movement was no immediate threat to the lives of millions of Americans the way the Communist were. They had to come up with something which would prolong the war for at least another year which people wouldn't revolt over. It would take that long for the cumulative effects of starvation, weather, and disease to grind down the population to a controllable level, while at the same time exhausting the American militaries' supply of fuel, weapons, ammunition, and food. The infrastructure to replace any of these no longer existed, and once they were gone the implementation of the One World government could proceed without resistance. The United States would cease to exist, being absorbed into region 5 of the new world order. Ten or fifteen million peasants and slave laborers herded into a handful of cities where they would no longer despoil the environment of the planet. Ives didn't see himself as a mass murderer, what he was doing was the last hope to save the planet and the human race along with it. Sacrafices just had to be made. Of course he woud be one of the elite reaping the rewards, but they had earned it.

He finally gave up on sleeping and asked the orderly stationed outside to see if he could round him up a bottle of bourbon and some ice.
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Evers met me halfway back to the CP, a thoughful look on his face. "Roger I'm so sorry to hear what happened to Charlie. I know that was a hell of a shock to you." I said.

"Yes, I still feel a little out of it. I suppose it will pass in time, but right now it's still too fresh. I see you and Major Richardson have already met. Were you able to furnish him with a ride back to Branson?"

I just gave Roger a blank look, I had no idea what he was talking about. Richardson broke in and said, "The situation has changed since we last talked Major Evers. Are you aware that was a suitcase nuclear weapon General Ives was carrying?"

Evers mouth literally dropped open. "He wouldn't dare!" he exclaimed.

"Yes," Richardson replied, "he would dare."

Evers looked at me for a long moment and said. " I warned you this might happen. Well, what are we going to do? We can't just shoot him."

"I can." Richardson replied. "I'm dead, remember?"

Once again my blank look surfaced. I was getting good at it. Evers brought me up to speed on that detail and we walked back down to the cemetary, tossing out plans on how to do in Brigadier General Gustav Ives.

I was in my office a couple of hours later When General Ives walked in. He didn't knock, just strode in like he owned the joint. He started to introduce himself and I cut him off. "I know who you are, what do you want?"

The red crept up his neck as he walked over to my desk. "Allright, we'll dispense with the pleasantries. We know it was you who nuked that Russian base. I don't know who in the hell you think you are, but you will by God cease and desist from this private war of yours or we will throw your sorry butt in prison. I don.." he stopped short as I pulled back the hammer on my .45 and levelled it directly in front of his face.

"I think maybe you ought to back up a step or two and start over. This time a little lighter on the pompous ass routine. I aint in your pissant army genral, and you will address me as an equal, or I will scatter what passes for your brains all over the wall."

He had gone first white then red again. "You are insane." he said. His hand was hovering near his holstered Beretta so I dropped my .45 back into its own and stood there waiting. He read my meaning loud and clear. After a moment he turned and walked for the door. "Next time send somebody with some guts to do your dirty work." I called after him.

Evers was waiting in is office when the orderly dropped Ives back off. He watched through the blinds with a grin on his face as Ives stomped towards him, face red as a beet. When he was ten yards away Evers hustled back around behind his desk, just hitting the seat as the door crashed open, he stood right back up. "That son of a bitch threatened to shoot me!!!" he roared. I want him arrested right now, we'll hang the bastard!"

Evers paused a moment and then said. "With all due respect sir, the man has over two hundred heavily armed men, and eight armored vehicles. He has also displayed an amazing ability to use them with devastating effect. I have four radio men, five mechanics, eight pilots, and no rifles. Short of napalming his entire camp there isn't a hell of a lot I can do. And with his anti-aircraft capability we might not even be able to pull that off without losing most of the squadron. With all due respect if you want the man arrested, go ahead and do it. But leave my men out of it."

"I could have you court martialed for this." Ives shouted.

"I rather doubt it, as I am an officer in the army of a foriegn government. And need I remind you that you are standing on the territory of a foreign sovereign nation at this moment. I could have you shot and the American government couldn't say a thing about it."

Ives stormed out of the office, not even bothering to slam the door behind him. He ran right into Richardson, nearly knocking him down. "What the hell are you doing here?" he roared again.

Richardson looked startled, then replied. "I was sent down a couple of days ago to investigate this Krushev guy. The man is a total maniac. Threatened to hang me if I set foot in his camp again."

"Well meet me at my cessna in fifteen minutes, we're going home." Ives said, then stomped off towards his tent.

Richardson turned back towards the blinds in Evers office and grinned. He gave a thumbs up and started walking towards Ives plane, his gym bag in hand.

Ives entered his tent after telling the orderly to find him some more ice, and went directly to the nuke. He waited till the orderly was gone then quickly slipped outside and around back, making into the deeper woods. Once he was far enough back that he couldn't be seen he placed the bomb on the ground and opened it up to set the timer. He set it to go off at 2;30 in the morning of that same night, then began raking pine straw and leaves over the closed lid to make sure no one noticed it.

Fifteen minutes later he was back at the plane and had the engine running as Richardson fastened his seat belt in the passenger seat. He looked at the fuel guage and noted with satisfaction that Evers men had topped off the tank, then began his takeoff roll. The control tower squawked at him over the radio, chastising him for not getting takeoff clearance. He picked up the mike and shouted, "Kiss my ass you Limey bastards!!"

By the time they were 60 miles from Branson Richardson was nauseous and had the cold sweats. Ives kept looking over at him and finally asked, "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I've got vetigo, had it since I was a kid. Sometimes the dramamine helps, sometimes it doesn't." He reached under his shirt and pulled out his custom .45 automatic, threaded muzzle staring at Ives chest. "If you don't mind please radio in an inflight emergency to Branson control. We should be well within their range by now."

Ives thought back on the long and bloody history of Richardson, and he picked up the mike. "You want to call em, do it yourself. You're going to kill me anyway."

"I'm afraid your right." Richardson said, then pulled the trigger.

Ives jerked back as the bullet tore through his lungs and heart, dead within a few seconds. Richardson put a finger in his ear and rubbed to deaden the ringing noise, then inspected it for wax before picking up the mike. He deepened his voice just a touch in his best Ives impersonation and said. "Branson control this is skyking sierra november echo two niner six bravo declaring an inflight emergency, mayday mayday, do you read, over?

"Copy inflight emergency skyking, what is your position over?"

"I'm about 50 miles south of Branson with a dead engine, losing altitude fast. Over"

Richardson hung the mike back up and turned off the radio. He lowered the nose into a steep dive, airspeed running right on the redline. At three hundred feet he had levelled back out and was weaving his way between the mountains, headed for home.

An hour later he had parked the airplane under some large trees next to his old piper cub and was inside looking at a list of names on a sheet of paper. He crossed Ives off the list and drew a circle around the next name. Senator James Westfield. He was whistling the tune Gunderson had taught him as he dug his dirty clothes and silencer out of the gym bag. "That's a catchy tune dad, what is it?" Melinda asked as she entered the room. Richardson turned and accepted a kiss on the cheek from his daughter, and for the thousandth time a chill ran down his spine as he looked at her. She was just unworldly beautiful, more angel than human. He couldn't believe such beauty could have sprung from his loins, even counting the contribution of her mother. "Maggie I think it's called, it's an old Rod Stewart tune."

"Whistle it again I like it." Richardson whistled a few bars and began to sing the lyrics Gunderson had taught him in a low tenor. "She led me away from home, just to save her from being alone, she stole my heart and that's a pain I can live without." Melinda listened with rapt attention and a sad expression crept over her face. Richardson stopped his singing and said, "I'm sorry, I know you must get terribly lonely out here, not being used to this much solitude."

"Yes," Melinda said, "It is quite a change from home, having such a large family around all the time. But please go on, the song is beautiful and you sing so well."

"Maybe later honey, I'm starved have you got anything you can just warm up?"

"Yes, let me get those dirty clothes in the washing machine and I'll fix you something." Melinda stooped to gather the clothes and as she straightened up she suddenly felt faint. The room wavered before her eyes for a moment as her Father stepped forward to catch her. Her vision blacked out for a second and she came back to with her father still holding her. "Melinda, what's wrong? Are you all right?"

"Yes I'm ok, I just stood up too fast and the blood left my head for a moment. I'm all right now." Melinda replied. He looked at her for a moment and finally let go of her, seeing she could stand on her own. "You scared me for a moment there. I'm starved, have you got anything you can just warm up?" Richardson asked.

Melinda looked at him curiously then noticed she was no longer holding the dirty clothes, they were back on the table. That's strange, she thought.

"Oh, don't go out back, I had to shoot Ives in his plane and it's parked under the trees next to the piper. I'll bury him tommorow."

"How many more left on the list?" Melinda asked.

"There are fifteen more here in Branson, I got myself listed as killed in action so I won't have to go to the other house. I can just operate from here from now till I finish."

"That's great dad, it get's awful lonely around here when you are gone." Melinda turned and walked down the hall whistling the Stewart tune. Richardson started, wondering where she had heard that.

The next morning he went out to bury Ives body and was going though his pockets when he found a key on a ring with a tag that said vaccine. He looked at it for a while and then started going through the cessna. In the luggage hold he found a steel box with a lock on it which the key fit. Inside were ten capped syringes filled with a yellowish fluid, along with a set of instructions for their use. They were for smallpox.

Bounced for returning lurkers.

YEP