Third Person - Complete

Outnumbered and Outgunned

The wind coming down off the mountains was cold, the clouds low with September rain that was threatening to pour down on the woods on either side of the roughly paved road. The ferns that coated the ground beneath the trees were waist high and slowly waving with the wind that pulled down the leaves from the higher branches. The woods were hushed, silent, although faintly in the distance the sound of heavy vehicles could be heard once in a while as well as the constant sound of the Americans practicing with their weapons on the firing range on the west side of Site-317. The sunshine was muted, largely blocked by the heavy clouds, providing no warmth in the cold September day.

Junior Sergeant Stepan Sokolov shifted in position, the wet of the ground from the rain of the night before having soaked into his uniform. His AK-74 was covered by a cloth to keep any chance of it being spotted early, the curved 30-round magazine fully loaded with 5.45mm Soviet rounds.

Captain Lobanov's plan was simple. When the OD green van returned, the board with nails in it would be slid into the road, blowing out the tires. The Spetsnaz Alfa Group team would then show themselves, weapons ready, to show the Americans that resistance would be useless, as the team had seen the Americans were not carrying their weapons when they had left Site-317.

It seemed solid to Stepan, who had taken part in operations taking Mujahideen prisoner in Afghanistan. Stop the vehicle, make a show of force, take the prisoners into custody. It had worked the dozen or so times that Stepan had carried out those kinds of missions, he couldn't see any reason that it wouldn't work this time.

Stepan knew that Captain Lobanov and the two dozen members of the team were scattered around, carrying either AK-74's or OTS-02 submachineguns, although two men were carrying KS-23 shotguns. Personally, Stepan doubted any of the weapons would come into play. There was only a half dozen of the Americans, and the Soviet troops outnumbered then four to one and were armed where the Americans were unarmed.

For all of the Vympel team's caution regarding the Americans, the last few weeks of surveillance Stepan had seen little more than joking around, leisure, and exercise. Sure, a lot of American and NATO soldiers had shown up, there had been a lot of weapon fire, and plenty of helicopters, but it became obvious that it was all practice of some type.

It reminded Stepan that the Americans had not been involved in an actual war since they had lost Vietnam to a bunch of rice patty Asian peasants armed with outdated weaponry and nothing beyond infantry forces.

Like Afghanistan? the thought bubbled up before he could stop it, and he pushed the thought away.

Stepan heard the sharp whistle from further up the road and whistled himself to pass on the message that the little van was heading toward their position. He held tight to his AK-74 and felt sweat bead up on his lower back. Like usual, he had to pee suddenly, his bladder insisting it was full as soon as the prospect of confrontation reared its ugly head.

The putt-putt of a small engine filled the air and Stepan tensed up, peering at the road from between the ferns. Across from his was Senior Sergeant Boystov, ready with the board that they had hammered nailed into all four sides, so that the pointed ends stuck out no matter which was it landed, guaranteeing that at least one of the tires would pop.

Simple and effective.

Stepan had been the one to suggest it. The Mujahideen used it to stop vehicles in Afghanistan to ambush the convoy. It was simple, effective, cheap, and easy.

The little green van, a Volkswagon, came into sight and Stepan saw Sergeant Boystov slide the nailed board into the road. Senior Sergeant Delov, a feet to Stepan's left, did the same.

With a loud bang the front of the van ran over the boards, both front tires going out. Immediately afterward the back tires blew out and Stepan saw the front passenger side tire roll mostly off the rim.