The Ten Thousand

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Authors: Harold Coyle
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Pape’s right, Sergeant Couvelha called out to his men armed with AT-4 anti-tank rocket launchers. “Billy, you fire first. And make sure you call out your range before you do.” Couvelha twisted his head toward the second soldier. “Ned, listen up for Billy’s range and watch where his rocket hits.
    Make your correction if you need to, then fire. Got it?”

    Billy, intently staring through the sight of his rocket launcher, said nothing. He only nodded, a nod that Couvelha didn’t see, not that he needed to. Billy was young but he was solid and dependable. Couvelha knew Billy had heard. Ned, a smile on his face, turned to Couvelha. “No sweat, Sarge.”
    Couvelha shook his head. Unlike Billy, Ned was a little too cool, too cocksure of himself for Couvelha, which is why Ned fired second. He was about to tell Ned that he had better pay attention to his front when Billy yelled, “ RANGE , TWO HUNDRED METERS! FIRING!”
    Billy’s announcement gave everyone on the firing line a second to prepare themselves. Half of the men, looking elsewhere, hadn’t seen the BTR as it emerged from the darkness. Even when he followed the road, Pape still could not see it. “WHERE? WHERE IS THE FUCKER? I DON’T SEE? ”
    The snap that announced the ignition of the AT-4’s rocket motor, followed by a whoosh as the rocket left the tube, cut Pape short. Watching the rocket, Pape was blinded when the shaped-charge warhead made contact with the BTR head-on. The jet stream formed by the explosion of the rocket’s inverted cone-shaped warhead cut through the armor of the BTR’s front slope just below the roof. Missing the driver’s head by inches, the jet stream hit the BTR’s gunner square in the stomach after cutting through the ammunition feed chute that fed linked rounds to the BTR’s 14.5mm machine gun. The driver was startled by the sudden explosion on the BTR’s front slope, followed by the spray of molten metal thrown off by the jet stream as it raced past his head, and the screams of the gunner accompanied by the pop, pop, pop of 14.5mm rounds going off behind him. His first reaction was to slam on the BTR’s brakes and duck his head, a motion that caused him to jerk the wheel to the left.
    Watching where Billy’s round struck, and noting that it appeared a little high, Ned laid the two-hundred-meter range line of his rocket launcher’s sight on the center of the BTR , now slowing and offering an oblique shot as it turned. Lowering the muzzle of his AT-4 ever so slightly, Ned yelled out,
    “ RANGE , ONE EIGHTY . FIRING ,” then let fly with his rocket. Though it was not a catastrophic hit, Ned’s rocket ended any desire by the startled BTR’s crew and passengers to stay with their vehicle.
    They didn’t even wait for the driver to bring the BTR to a complete stop before hatches and doors flew open.
    Checking himself, Pape flipped the safety off of his weapon with his thumb and continued to wait until the Ukrainian infantry squad began to spill out before he opened fire. Using the range announced by Ned to sight his weapon, Pape opened with a killing burst, hitting one Ukrainian before he could completely emerge from the BTR’s side door. The Ukrainian’s forward momentum, assisted by the shoving of the man behind him, cleared the line of sight for Pape to fire on the next man coming out the door. The second Ukrainian never realized that his companion had been hit, a fate that he soon suffered himself as Pape squeezed off a second short burst.
    From inside the BTR , a flame shot out of the opened door, followed by a muffled explosion. A secondary detonation, probably an anti-tank rocket stored inside the BTR just like the one that had stopped it, went off, ending the short anti-armor ambush.
    Seeing no more targets, Pape eased up, noticing for the first time that the Russian major was staring at him. While holding his weapon steady, Pape twisted his head and looked at the Russian lying less than a meter away from

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