Fury From Within

Chapter Four

The early morning snowstorm boded well for Captain Igor Isinov as he cowered in his pine branch lean-to, fingering his TAC-nine automatic weapon. With a lean, muscular body supporting his 6-foot tall frame, he could physically endue anything mother-nature tossed his way. He expected the same of his troops.

The snow had efficiently covered any previous trace of his unit’s activities. Thou the calendar still showed August, the mountains of Chechnya lay coated with snow as if Austria in December. The freak snowstorm was unusual for the time of year with the first storms usually arriving in September.

Captain Isinov and his 5-man KARKOV (Special Forces Anti-Terrorism and Assault Volunteers) unit parachuted out of a Russian Air Force aircraft deep into Chechen territory the previous night. They were searching for signs of the Mujahedeen Army headquarters rumored to be operating in the area. For them, the snow was a blessing; it would enable them to track their prey by simply following the footprints in the snow.

Captain Isinov didn’t mind the bone chilling cold, nor the snow, he was just happy to be “in the game” as his team referred to it. After 17 years of Russian Army miscues in the Battle for Chechnya, the Russian High Command had decided to seek out a “full effort” on ending the war in Chechnya.

First formed in 1979 as an elite, first strike, anti-terrorism weapon, KARKOV was comprised of volunteers from across the Russian Special Forces. It was a knee-jerk reaction to the American Military forming DELTA units to combat anti-terrorism. “If it’s good enough for the Americans—it was a necessity for the Russians,” was a common joke in the KARKOV community.

KARKOV achieved its legendary status in the counter-terrorism world with its 1994 dramatic rescue of 65 Aeroflot passengers from militant Islamic terrorists in Azerbaijan. With the Russian jet parked on the Tarmac and ten, armed to the teeth terrorists on board, KARKOV troops stormed the jet with 20 of its own troops. Within the ensuing 2 minutes, all ten terrorists lay dead from clean shots to the head.

For seven years Captain Isinov and his fellow KARKOV members pressured the Russian Duma to release them for service in Chechnya. Under mounting pressure due to heavy losses, the Russian government finally relented and allowed them into combat.

With KARKOV being in a position to act independently of the main forces, this enabled them to undertake missions that they alone planned, not to be used as fodder or replacement troops.

As KARKOV’s reputation grew due to its military actions in Chechnya, they eventually received carte blanche to undertake any mission, anytime, anywhere. The government-sponsored newspapers began touting KARKOV’s military prowess; writing lengthy articles on their exploits as they tried to single handedly save the reputation of the Russian Army in Chechnya.

After receiving much fanfare in Moscow, even the Russian President followed KARKOV’s daily exploits in dispatches and reports from his on-site Commanders. With this type of notoriety, no Russian Field Commander would dare turn down a KARKOV request for support unless he was prepared to explain his justification to the Russian President himself.

Captain Isinov’s men placed a 3-sided box grid of 15 anti-personnel mines before the snow had fallen, placing two groups of five mines in straight lines on both sides of the path and an additional five in front of the “box.” This allowed an unsuspecting group to walk in but provided no clear exit.

The mines were of the new sensor class. When contact with the first mine was established, they would all explode in unison, decimating an entire platoon if the mines were positioned correctly.

Captain Isinov directed two of his men to position themselves on opposite sides of the trail. He then placed the remaining two in the rear to effectively “close the box,” providing a classic, textbook ambush. From previous information, the footpath in front of them operated as the main “road” between the rebel front and their Mujahedeen Headquarters in the rear.

From his vantage point Captain Isinov had a difficult time viewing his men as they burrowed themselves into the natural environment with the snow providing additional ground cover for their positions. A sense of pride overcame Captain Isinov.

The rebel units contained some of the best mountain fighters he had ever come to know. They could infiltrate an unsuspecting unit’s defenses in a matter of minutes, killing most, if not all, before quickly, melting away. Of course, it could never happen to a KARKOV unit.

In the latest incident, KARKOV troops were able to pick up the trail and hunt down the rebel unit associated with several of the atrocities. Catching them less than 15 kilometers from the previous incident, killing them in the same manner in which they had doled out to the Russian forces. The men even decapitated some of the rebel victims for mounting on sticks and poles, placing them around the overrun rebel camp for their comrades to view.

Due to their success, the Russian High Command selected KARKOV troops to seek out the location of the rebel headquarters. They hoped KARKOV could pinpoint the location for a massive strike by the Russian Air Force.

This mission would test the effectiveness of the KARKOV unit’s to operate in the harsh, mountainous, Chechnya environment. Previous Special Forces attempts had failed to achieve any note of satisfaction with the High Command, with most units slaughtered or forced to retreat.

Previous actions cost the Russian military many specialized troops and a bounty of equipment that the rebels quickly turned against the occupying Russian troops.

The Russian Special Forces were excellent fighters on open terrain where the enemy couldn’t find suitable cover. When it came to fighting in the mountainous terrain south of Grozny, they were totally inept in comparison to the rebel forces. These high-profile failures led the Russian Army Command to finally buckle and open the door for KARKOV participation.

After five hours of patiently waiting for their bounty, they were rewarded with what appeared to be a column of rebels moving silently along the trail and directly for their “box.” Upon seeing the distant figures slowly approach his troop’s position Captain Isinov silently released his safety from his TAC-nine. He also placed a grenade in front of his position on a bed of fresh snow. He now lay in wait as the rebels walked single-file in a haphazard fashion no more than 20 meters from their positions. He counted 11 rebels. Each bundled against the piercing cold in layers of colorfully assorted clothing, resembling a moving circus train, all topped with traditional head garb.

The rebel group leader had placed three men in front of the column, and two in the rear, all heavily armed as they wearily eyed the surrounding woods. The remaining six rebels walked in the middle of the column with their weapons slung over their shoulders, carrying boxes of ammunition on solid wood poles, strung between them in groups of two, each box resembling a pig on a split.

They walked unknowingly into the ambush on a trail they had probably walked numerous times before. Suddenly one of them stepped onto the first contact mine that lay in his path. The force of the resulting explosion lifted the now legless body 5 feet into the air, dropping him back down with a dull thud. The ripping explosion turned bone fragments from the man’s legs into shrapnel, slicing through the soldier following him, killing him instantly.

The first explosion then triggered the remaining 14 mines to detonate on both sides of the column, sending jagged pieces of hot metal in all directions around them, killing two outright and wounding the remainder.

Captain Isinov and his troops took advantage of the confusion, firing short bursts from their concealed positions, eliminating six more of the rebels before they even had a chance to use their weapons.

The last rebel in the rear of the column dove behind a cluster of rocks that shielded him from his attacker’s bullets.

It would have been easy for Captain Isinov to toss a grenade into the rock cluster and be on their way, but this was the prisoner they required. The rebel must be taken alive. In order to have an interrogation — they required someone who could still talk.

Sirna Muliruid realized the hopeless position he was in, firing bursts from his concealed position, hoping to keep his attackers at bay until Allah could provide some assistance. If he could hold them off for a few minutes, maybe they would vanish just as quickly as they appeared. The shooting and explosions might possibly attract some of his fellow Mujahedeen soldiers from their positions north of here. He wiped blood from his weathered face, evidently a piece of shrapnel had found its mark above his untrimmed beard. All he could do was hope and pray as he reloaded his AK-47 with the last of his ammunition. What an irony, enough ammunition to hold off an army was only meters away and here I am with nothing left to fight with.

Sirna Muliruid left University in his final year of study, right after independence was declared. He immediately volunteered for duty with his fellow countrymen to expel the Russians from his homeland. Over the years, he slowly moved up through the rebel ranks until his promotion to his present position.

How could it end here? He thought to himself. I have survived numerous missions against the Russian devils, escaping each time to fight another day. Sirna Miliruid was not about to die lying in a hole, not like some animal giving birth. If he were going to die, it would like a man, and charging the devils in his quest to reach Allah.

Yes, Allah would welcome him with a huge feast.

Slowly he counted to three.

Captain Isinov ordered his men to stay concealed. He alone would approach the remaining fighter. Cautiously, he approached with-in grenade distance, a mere 10 meters from the rebel fighter’s position. He secretly admired the man for not immediately surrendering, also for finding the only defensible position in the immediate area.

Captain Isinov once again motioned for his troops to stay in their positions, still unsure if the rebel had any stragglers lurking behind him somewhere in the woods. Pulling a stun grenade from his web belt, he counted to three before tossing it into the rebel’s rock stronghold.

Sirna Miliruid rose up from his position, his AK-47 blazing away before a brilliant flash blinded him along with its accompanying explosion, his eardrums bursting in the same instant. The combination of both dropped him to his knees in searing pain as he wondered aloud if he were dead or alive, crying out to Allah for guidance.

Captain Isinov saw his victim incapacitated for the moment; he rushed the remaining ten meters to the rebels’ position, diving over the outcrop of rock and landing on top of Sirna. He wrestled with Sirna to place plastic handcuffs about his wrists, amazed at the physical strength the man displayed after the paralyzing blow of the stun grenade.

The captain’s fellow troops arrived in time to assist placing the cuffs on Sirna, helping to flip him over onto back, face-up.

Seeing the situation now under control, Captain Isinov efficiently deployed two of his troops 50 meters in opposite directions. He then ordered the remaining men to search the dead rebels for anything that might be of importance.

Turning back to face his new prisoner Captain Isinov removed a pack of American cigarettes from his pocket. He carefully lit the cigarette against the bitter wind that blew in from the west. He took his time inhaling before blowing smoke down into the young man’s face.

Sirna stared back defiantly.

“Where were you going comrade?” Captain Isinov said in a tone meant more for scolding a young child, not a seasoned warrior such as Sirna. “Were you walking to, or from your headquarters?” Pointing up the trail, then he motioned behind him.

Sirna Miliruid spit at Isinov’s fur boots, missing them by mere inches.

Captain Isinov looked down at the near miss and smiled as he took another long drag on the cigarette, holding the smoke in his mouth for a few seconds before again exhaling directly into Sirna’s face.

Sirna coughed in response.

Captain Isinov was well aware that devout Muslims refrained from smoking, a filthy vice he had picked up as a mercenary fighting in Angola many years before. He puffed rapidly on the cigarette, effectively allowing the ash on its edge to become as hot as possible before plunging the cigarette directly into Sirna’s forehead, directly above his right eye.

Sirna winced from the pain but did not struggle or turn away.

Captain Isinov was just warming up as he lifted his boot and brutally smashed it against Sirna’s face, breaking Sirna’s nose in two places, allowing blood to flow freely down his lips and chin before finally dripping down to the crisp white snow beneath him.

Sirna realized he was facing a long, painful death at the hands of this infidel, but in the end, he would be rewarded with Allah and his friends. He silently prayed as Captain Isinov brutally pulled him up to a standing position before striking him in his abdomen, causing him to double over from the blow.

Captain Isinov brutally shoved Sirna to the ground where his head struck a rock, knocking off his traditional head garb.

“Tell me the location of your headquarters complex, and I will allow you a quick and merciful death,” Captain Isinov demanded. He walked around Sirna, acting as if he were an animal circling his prey, preparing for a second strike. “You have my word as a Russian officer.”

Sirna tried to stand up, resembling a young colt struggling for its balance. Sirna moved to within a meter of Captain Isinov’s face.

“God is Great, Allah Akbar,” Sirna said, spitting blood on the Russians white, winter parka.

Captain Isinov shook his head in disbelief taking a drag from his cigarette. “I am trying to be as kind as possible. You are pushing me to my limits.” He pulled a ½ liter bottle of vodka from the inside lining of his parka. “Can you please tell me the location of your headquarters?” Captain Isinov said, his eyes never leaving Sirna’s. He raised the bottle to his lips to take a small sip before pouring the remaining contents of the bottle on Sirna’s outer clothing. He smiled as he then removed a lighter from his pocket.

Sirna knew what was coming next, closing his eyes in silent prayer.

“Captain, Captain Isinov,” came a cry from Corporal Tupol. “I think we have another live one.”

Captain Isinov placed his lighter back into his pocket, pointing at his prisoner in the same instant. “You have a temporary stay of execution enjoy the time while you can.” He turned to a soldier evaluating captured papers. “Private Krimiv come over here and stand guard over this man. If he so much as moves, you have my permission to smash his face in but don’t kill him,” leaning in close to Sirna’s left ear. “He’s mine.”

Captain Isinov walked to where Corporal Tupol stood over a mangled, legless body, careful not to slip in the blood trail that flowed in both directions. “What is it Corporal? What is so important that you drag me away from my interrogation?” Captain Isinov looked down in pity at the rebel, clearly in delirium from the combination of shock with the loss of his legs.

“He keeps mumbling something about his brother and the end of the war will soon be coming,” the Corporal said, kicking the body to have him repeat the words. “Say it again comrade before you pass on to your God, tell me more about the end of the war. What do you know?”

Rufa Miliruid lay in a state of delirium, passing in and out of consciousness as he lay in the fresh bed of snow looking up at the two figures clad in white standing over him. Maybe the Christians are right, angels do exist! Thinking for a moment he must be dead, for he felt no pain.

Rufa suddenly screamed deliriously: “Find my brother; he is the Commander of our unit! I need to say goodbye to him one last time. He has to fulfill the mission for us. We must end the war victorious.”

Captain Isinov looked over to where he had left his prisoner in the hands of Private Krimiv, signaling for him to come over. “Private, bring the prisoner over here with you and hurry we don’t have much time.”

Captain Isinov removed his field pack, unclipping his medical kit, extracting a needle containing morphine. He tapped it a few times with his forefinger shooting a small dose into the air before jabbing it into the legless rebels arm. He hoped the morphine would extend the man’s life long enough to obtain additional information. The morphine might also loosen his tongue.

After several seconds, a sense of relief surged over Rufa, his eyelids fluttering several times.

“Get over here and tell me who this man is!” demanded Captain Isinov to Sirna, tossing him harshly down beside Rufa. “He is in your unit. Now tell me who the hell he is!” He pushed Sirna’s head to within inches of Rufa Miliruid’s face. “Do you recognize this soldier?”

“I do not know him,” Sirna said unconvincingly. “He was placed in my unit at the last moment.”

Captain Isinov brutally pulled Sirna’s hair back, almost breaking his neck in the process. “You are a lying little pig. You answered too readily.” He tossed him to one side leaning down over the legless Rufa. “Can you hear me comrade?”

Rufa nodded.

“Good. I have provided you with some medicine to ease your pain comrade. Now, I have some questions for you.”

Rufa opened his eyes, surprised to see his brother at his feet, reaching out to him with his still functioning right hand.

Captain Isinov couldn’t help but notice the sign of recognition.

“Do you know this man my friend?” Captain Isinov inquired, leaning down to comfort Rufa, lifting his head gently and pointing to Sirna.

“Sirna Miliriud my own brother, our great field commander.” He tried to touch him before surrendering to the convulsions that raked his body.

Captain Isinov laid Rufa’s head gently down in the snow, whispering for him to rest now for his time with his God would soon be forthcoming.

Captain Isinov turned to Sirna. “As a humanitarian gesture I will provide you with a few seconds to say good-bye to your brave brother. Sorry, I must apologize but we can’t leave you two alone it wouldn’t be prudent now would it?”

Looking at Sirna for some type of response, sensing none, he continued on. “I take it that you choose not to participate in my gesture of good will?”

Sirna’s head remained bowed.

“Private Krimiv, I am losing my touch. I am becoming too soft in my old age,” said Captain Isinov jokingly, removing his weapon from his holster and placing it inches from Rufa’s left ear. “Are you sure you have nothing to say to your brother? Not many people would get this second chance?”

Again with no response from Sirna, Captain Isinov casually pulled the trigger ending Rufa’s life with a single bullet to his head.

“I can be generous and show compassion when it is warranted.” He re-holstered his weapon, smiling at Sirna. “It is Sirna Miliruid, is it not? A dying man would not lie to us would he? No, I don’t think so. Now if I remember correctly, Sirna Miliruid is the Field Commander for the Rebel Eastern sector.”

Sirna did not flinch, knowing his brother had already been taken by Allah’s hand.

“Corporal, signal our air team to be at the extraction point in 2 hours. Also inform them we will need immediate transport to Moscow after landing in Grozny.”

Sirna knew he had to escape or kill himself before they evacuated him to Moscow. If they brought him to Moscow alive he could surely betray his comrade’s plans. He knew the Russians used drugs and torture to assist in the interrogation process, making it impossible to hold back any information. Sirna and his compatriots had much to lose if he lived, including the principle operation in the United States.

The captain mockingly saluted Sirna before he turned to walk away.

The corporal laughed aloud as leaned over to feel the pulse of the prisoner.

Sirna saw the opportunity Allah had presented to him. He sprung up from his kneeling position as if a coiled cobra lunging at its prey, slamming his body heavily into the corporal, applying a sharp head butt to his exposed fore head, knocking the corporal unconscious atop his brother.

Captain Isinov turned in time to view Sirna sprawled overtop of the corporal.

Sirna desperately clawed with his cuffed hands at the corporal’s belt. “I will avenge your death my brother,” he said aloud as he pulled a grenade out of the belts webbing, struggling in vain to reach the metal release pin.

Fingering the grenade, he rotated it until he felt the metal hoop that signaled the pin. A smile broke across his face knowing his plan would succeed.

As he struggled to pull the pin, a sharp blow rendered him unconscious.