Fury From Within

Chapter Seventeen

The black dot was barely visible to the naked eye, and even if it were to be noticed, would present no issue to those viewing it from below. Many high-flying passenger jets still utilized the skies above, flying at distances well above the older model Surface to Air Missile’s range that the Chechnya rebels stored in their inventory.

In the skies above, Lieutenant Georgy Rogonivich expertly maneuvered his lumbering Blackjack Bomber. With his target now approaching, he pulled back the throttles on the center console, slowing the massive aircraft from 1,500 knots to just under 800. With beautiful weather presenting itself at 5,000 meters above the Nakyata Pass, he adhered to his navigator’s strict demands to steer a course of 170 degrees. This enabled him to follow the narrow outline of the deep canyon below.

“Remember Sergi, we are looking to drop this stuff on the rams head portion of the canyon,” Georgy said to his young bombardier, a Second Lieutenant straight out of the Military Academy.

“We could end this rebellion with one click of your well trained thumb,” looking back to gauge his response.

Georgy could see from the poor boy expression that he could not take a joke.

“Don’t worry, we have 30 of those 1,000 kilo bad boys in our bomb bay, you only have to hit them with one,” laughing out loud at the second lieutenant’s expression of panic.

“Target, two miles ahead, Rams Head positively identified below,” the navigator cried in a voice resembling a teenager on the verge of puberty. “Opening the bomb bay doors and I am taking command of the aircraft, Lieutenant.”

“Affirmative,” Georgy said in reply, the humor now gone. It was down to business.

Omar Turhaniz moved about his headquarters compound with the swiftness of a rabbit. At times, he seemed to be in multiple places at once, from directing the clerks and secretary’s to overseeing the security forces. Omar knew he had to inspire his charges to move quickly and leave nothing behind for the Russians to use. This meant destroying anything that was not transportable, including the water supply and latrine facilities.

Their only means of air defense, an antiquated radar system donated by the Syrian military, had been shut down 30 minutes earlier. After the radar unit was shuttered, its accompanying SAM-8 battery, another gift of the Syrians, was disassembled for travel. This left the Headquarters area defenseless from an air attack. Omar did strategically position five observers with high-power binoculars on the surrounding cliffs to scan all approaches, both ground and air.

Since moving to this site from their previous headquarters three years before, the Russian Military had been totally inept at locating them. With only one or two hours remaining, that record would seem to be remaining intact.

With an infection to his right foot hindering his progress, Omar limped from truck-to-truck. He busily instructed the drivers on what routes they would follow to the new headquarters in the Goltea caves. Even though they would operate at night, in a convoy, the possibility did present itself that they could come under attack along the way.

Omar wouldn’t allow one truck nor one body to be left for the Russians. He instructed his men to wire all of the trucks with demolition charges in case they encountered the enemy. The two pounds of Semtex each truck carried would effectively obliterate any trace of the trucks and its cargo.

Most of the work had been mundane; consisting of packing everything from cots for sleeping to foodstuffs. Omar stood proudly surveying the area that his staff had broken down in a remarkable 4 days. They were now in the process of loading into the last of the 10 Mazda trucks for their short, but treacherous journey.

Omar waved to the last truck driver, limping over to shake his hand.

Omar never reached the truck as a sudden shrill sounded from above, the earth around him shook violently in a massive series of explosions. Omar first saw the lead truck and his 3rd in command disappear via a huge fireball, the explosions rumbling towards his position consuming truck after truck and the earth surrounding them. Omar turned to run from the convoy and hopefully to safety when struck by a cluster bomb fragment from behind. He quickly succumbed to injuries before yet another bomb shredded apart his body as if it were paper.

It was a quick and painless death for him, unlike the many Russian soldiers and airmen he had murdered.

The resulting explosions engulfed the entire complex area for a kilometer in radius, dismembering most of the rebel’s bodies into hundreds of small fragments.

There was nothing left to bury, only DNA to be examined.