Junior Sergeant Stepan Sokolov approached the wreckage of the helicopters slowly, staring at the charred wreckage. Two Mil Mi-24 attack helicopters were crumpled less than twenty paces from the chain link fence just up ahead.
"What happened? Mechanical failure?" Stepan asked Major Vaselik and Senior Sergeant Egorkin, stopping and putting one hand on the buckled armor plating of the aircraft.
"Chernobog," Egorkin grunted, spitting on the grass. He was cradling a PKM light machinegun in his arms, the weapon loaded and the bipod deployed.
Stepan looked at the other two men and saw the Major was nodding.
"They were warned that Chernobog protects his lair. For some time they would hover here, Chernobog would warn them off, and they would return," The Major said. He lit a cigarette and stared at the fencing. "Then one of the pilots, for unknown reasons, possibly irritated by being constantly locked up by anti-aircraft missiles, opened fire with his chain gun on Chernobog."
Stepan frowned in confusion. "Surely not."
"Didn't matter," Egorkin said, spitting again. Stepan found the gunner's habit of chewing tobacco to be disgusting.
Stepan looked at Major Vaselik who nodded. "Yuri saw it plainly. Chernobog was standing in the open, in the middle of the road, the pilot opened fire and fired his chain gun and two rockets."
"Surely the pilot missed," Stepan scoffed. "I have seen these in action in Afghanistan."
The Major shook his head. "Yes. Missed. Perhaps. Chernobog vanished in smoke and dust, but when the dust cleared he was still kneeling in the road with a Stinger missile, which he then fired."
The big Major slapped the wreckage with one hand. "Three other missiles fired, all four hit, two to each Mil-24, and here they are."
"And Chernobog yet lives," Egorkin grunted, spitting again.
"And what of the crew, Comrade Major?" Stepan asked.
At that Egorkin turned and stared at Stepan.
"Chernobog and his minions climbed that fence, him, the big Texan, the Amazon, and The Beast. They fell upon the crews and massacred them to a man, with the exception of a single man," Egorkin said gravely.
"How many of them were killed?" Stepan asked almost eagerly. Surely Soviet soldiers would have wreaked terrible havoc upon the Americans in close combat.
"I told you, all but a single man," Egorkin said, turning around. He scanned the horizon. "I wonder if she has returned yet and is staring at us right now?"
The Major shook his head. "No. She is still in school, learning to be a better sniper."
"Pfft, she will be teaching the teachers," Egorkin scoffed.
"How many of the Americans were killed?" Stepan said, feeling a flash of irritation at the way Egorkin simply cut off the conversation.
The Major sighed as Egorkin turned back to the young Junior Sergeant.
"None. Which part of 'demon' do you not understand?" Egorkin snarled. "Look, boy, I know that you're back from Afghanistan, having faced the Mujahidee and their Pakistani allies, but over there? That's Chernobog, not some howling desert fanatic with a rock, a goat, and weapons built by superior people."
"Here he comes," The Major said, breaking into the conversation. He looked at Egorkin. "You're right. He's got spotters up."
"Think he will come out here?" Egorkin asked, spitting into the grass again.
YOU ARE READING
Third Person - Complete
Historical FictionPFC James Roberts just wanted to serve his country, like his father and grandfather. He left his middle class life to join the military with the hope of making his family proud. Graduating top of his class in Basic Training, attending Advanced Indiv...
