Free The Fall of America: Fatal Encounters (Book 2) by W.R. Benton Page B

reported the death of four resistance members, without the loss of a single man. As far as he was concerned, his mission was complete, or close enough in his view. Moscow and Vetrov only lived for body counts, so numbers he could deliver. He knew no one in the unit he commanded would say a word, because like him, they wanted to return to the safety of camp. He cursed,  handed the radio headset back, and said, “We have to spend the night here.  So, we will sleep in the barn.”
    Lieutenant Ivanov didn't like the idea, but said nothing. He realized the Major didn't like suggestions, even ones that might save his ass.
    “You,” the Major said pointing at a private, “bring the rest of the men here. We will sleep in the barn.  Sergeant Belonev!”
    “Sir?”
    “Throw the bodies in the fire.  We must have it tidy when the helicopter arrives in the morning.  I want one guard at the door to the barn, one in the loft with the door open, and another at the back at all times while we sleep, understood?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    As he moved toward the barn, he said, “See to it now.”
    The Master Sergeant had the bodies thrown to the fire, except for the baby.  He picked the child up, muttered a prayer under his breath, and then tossed the small body into the crackling flames.   There was no reason to kill these people. The Major is not following orders, he is trying to get on Vetrov's good side by calling in a body count.  Hell, he might even be awarded a medal, all for killing a damned farmer and his family. I grow sick of this, because I've seen so much of it.
    “You feeling okay, Sergeant?” Lieutenant Ivanov asked and then continued, “We had better get to the barn before the Major comes out looking for us.”
    “I am fine, sir, just looking forward to my retirement.”
    “I would guess so, but that is a long way off for me, if I can stay alive long enough. Now, let us get to the barn.” As they walked a bright line of lightning lit the sky, a loud clap of thunder sounded and looking up, the Lieutenant saw black clouds rolling. They were just a few feet from the entrance to the barn when the rains came.
    Inside the barn, the men were scattered into little pockets, with the Major beside the radio operator.  Belonev had passed a guard by the door on the way in and now climbed to the loft to check on the other guard. He found a private sitting on a bale of hay, back in the darkness, looking out the loft door. The man was experienced, using the shadows to help hide him.
    The farm house was still in flames, clearly seen from the loft, but if the rains remained long enough, the fire would go out.  Nodding to the guard, Master Sergeant Belonev left the loft, and putting on his poncho, went outside to check the guard at the rear. He discovered the man standing under a slight overhang out of the rain.  
    “Wet night.”  The guard said.
    “It usually is when it rains.  Keep your eyes and ears alert to anything.  It is possible the men in the resistance have noticed the fire and they might come to investigate. If so, daydreaming will get your throat cut.”
    “I am awake and plan to stay that way all of my shift. Sergeant, I do not really understand why we are in this country.”
    “We are in this country because Mother Russia told us to come here. We are soldiers and as such, we do what we are told, when we are told to do it, and without question. Just do your duty, try to stay alive, and leave the politics to the politicians.”
    “I understand, Sergeant,” the guard replied, but really didn't. Like soldiers all over the world, he was lonely, tired, hungry, sleepy and confused about why he was stationed in America. He didn't hate Americans, but didn't like them either, because he'd never spoken to one. He knew little about them and the family they'd killed were the first ones he'd seen up close.  He'd seen movies about America, also read some westerns and science fiction books, but as a people, he knew little