Part 4: The Terror of the Game
The rest of the day was more than sufficient for Lario to plan his mission. First thing he went to visit the recon platoon quarters, where he was received by Sergeant Dario Rena. Rena was not a new face for Lario, who had met him In Pisa during the brief period he served as an assistant instructor at the Airborne troops school.
Rena, Lario thought, had not changed a bit since then. A military career was the thing he wanted more than anything else, and he could not get it. He was expelled from the Modena Military Academy in his third year, after having hit an officer who went too far in bugging him with courtesy regulations. In one single day he lost both his hopes to be an officer, and a paratrooper, like his father and grandfather before him. The latter had been a captain of the glorious “Folgore” Parachute Division that taught some lessons in light infantry tactics to the 44th English Divisions and to a regiment of the French Foreign Legion at El Alamein in October 1942.
After his misadventure in Modena, Rena barely managed to remain in the army, thank to his state of service. He was redirected to the cavalry, on a death track that saw him advance as far as section commander in the antitank troop of a recon Battalion. When his unit was ambushed out of Hernando beach by element of an American cavalry regiment, and almost slaughtered in a furious engagement, his platoon was reassigned to the 11th Bersaglieri battalion and tasked both with recon and antitank duties.
“Vailatti…I can’t say it’s a pleasure to see you again” Rena addressed Lario as soon as he saw him reporting to his Platoon HQ. “I hear you are here to take command of my men”.
“Not exactly Rena” retorted Lario with a half smile: “I am actually taking command of one of your men only. But I need the best guy you’ve got. Do we have a deal”?
Rena gave Lario a “what are you up to, look”.
“What is the nature of the mission”?
“Observation point”
“I see…I’ll give you Private Goia. He’s got the best pair of eyes in the entire platoon and he is a quiet sneaky son of a bitch. I wouldn’t define him a ferocious warrior but he can hold his own in combat”
“One more thing Dario…” said Vailatti looking Rena straight in the eyes; “I will need your vehicle. I have been thinking about going out on foot, but the distance is considerable. I am supposed to stretch out as far as Tampa bay outskirts if possible, and I have only got five days to be back here. Not a chance to make it dismounted.
“I don’t recommend that. You’ll be damn visible with the blue pickup we have scavenged in Timber Pines after the first encounter with the enemy”.
Lario paused for a moment considering options. “We’ll cover it in mud and branches and see if it can go like that. How’s the fuel”?
“Not even half a tank, it’ll carry you for may be 150 kilometers, then you are on foot”.
“Will have to be enough; then again we might get lucky and find some fuel along the way”.
Rena gave a prolonged stare at Lario.
“Look big special forces man” he said with a tad of resentment; “bring my vehicle and my soldier back in one piece, or I will have to kill you; is that understood”?
Lario simply stood up, not too much impressed: “Introduce me to this Goia guy, and he’s better be as good as you say, or I will have to kill YOU”.
The two NCO’s walked to a set of tents behind the parked Chevrolet pickup.
“Goia…come here quick” Rena yelled as they approach the “rooms”.
A soldier intent to clean his assault rifle, turned over, stood up and trotted towards the two men approaching. He stood on the attention when he reached Rena and Lario, and saluted them.
“At ease Davide; this is Sergeant Major Vailatti of the Col. Moschin Regiment. He will brief you on a mission that you are going to undertake at his orders. I leave you with him”. Then he turned towards Lario, and gave him the perfect military salute;
“Let me know if I can do anything more for you Sir” he said to Lario.
Lario simply reached out with his hand and smiled at Rena. “We will have fun. A smooth little data collection. It will be a nice little vacation”.
By the end of the day, Lario and Goia had all the details of their excursion figured out; routes timings, and reasonable contingencies. They would travel west to the Lake Lindsey main crossroad, and then they would turn south on highway 41 in direction of Brooksville. The entire itinerary was supposed to be in the brigade rear area and thus, at least in theory, secure.
The following morning, Lario and private Goia were in full gear and ready to go. They looked exactly like a LRRP patrol should look: two big backpacks which just happened to have two little men, in black painted faces carrying them, weaponry casually hanging down as secondary appendices; and even though for that particular mission the backpack would soon find some space in the rear seats of the vehicle cabin, that did not necessarily make the expression of the two men less miserable. Major De Gaetano approached them as they checked their equipment for one last time before leaving.
“In five days from now, we will still be here, Vailatti” said the Major with a warm smile. “And in the remote case we are not, I will leave orders for you buried with a cache of ammunition exactly where the Dardo is located now. Be careful, do not run unnecessary risks, and remember the purpose of your mission; your patrol is going to be the southern eyes and ears of the battalion. Let us know what is going on. I am especially interested in the conditions of Tampa and surroundings.
Lario and Goia saluted on the attention, then embarked on the pickup and departed.
For a change, Lario found himself driving in pleasant and even warm morning with a big shiny sun rising over the horizon. If it was not for the deserted landscape, Lario could have thought he was on a nice trip in the country. Some of the farms along the highway appeared damaged, some very badly, in those particular areas where the Americans had set Antitank of machinegun nests during the Italian advance past Brooksville. Other signs of battle were visible, in the form of burned vegetation and terrain, especially near the artillery craters still filled with water. Occasional clusters of destroyed combat vehicles, most of them completely burnt out, littered the countryside, indicating the points of major resistance that the Ariete Armored brigade had encountered during its advance east.
“How did you get in the special forces” asked Goia while Lario was about to turn to get on highway 41.
“I won the European high school marathon two years in a row” Lario answered with a smile, keeping his eyes on the road. “1979 and 1980;” Lario dreamed out loud” I won by a large margin in the second year”.
Goia looked at Lario to signal him that he wanted to hear more. Lario briefly turned towards him, and seeing his inquiring expression, continued:
“I wanted to be a professional athlete. I was a tall skinny guy; kind of the perfect structure for a long distance runner. Then in ’81 came the conscription medical visit, and the captain cardiologist that screened me, said I had a horse heart, and that was the reason why I won the marathons.
“And you joined the Army as a volunteer” said Goia with an amused smile.
“Well, you know, I was given the speech about how the armed forces needed men with my potential, and they gave me the entire patriotic crap story. I signed, and was dispatched to the Parachute Brigade. Four years I spent there; then I went to the 9th for further training”.
Lario’s smile became bigger as he continued to talk.
“I still remember how I could outrun all the instructors. Boy that was fun; great times. I also started to develop a knack for basic infantry combat. I proceeded to systematically fail all the IQ tests that the regiment submitted me to, but I worked well in team, worked well by myself, and they kept me”.
Lario paused, as he gave a circular look from right to left, to the landscape that was becoming worse as they proceeded west: more signs of devastation now, punctuated by the occasional civilian vehicle abandoned along road, some burnt out, or still with corpses on board.
Approaching the outskirts of Brooksville, the road sudden went uphill. According to the map, that was the last hill before the road would gradually descend into the town.
On the top of the hill, the view extended for several kilometers down in the small valley were Brooksville was located. And that view, Lario thought, was not good at all.
The first thing that a Lario and Goia eyes recorded was a scene of devastation: fires fiercely burning on various sections of the town, smoke all over it and confused activity going on all around. A couple of CARABINIERI helicopters circled around in their black and white paint, their bellies clearly visible in the morning sun. Military vehicles, many of them belonging to the CARABINIERI as well, moved in and out of the town in a confused carousel that did not suggest anything good.
Lario instinctively slowed down approaching the downhill part of the road heading into town. A defense line manned by the military was visible between them and the town, and it looked like it was facing the town itself. As Lario and Goia approached the line, the details become clearer. A big tank truck and a wagon, like a wagon towed by horses, but without horses, were placed at the two sides of the road. Lario blood froze when he focused his attention on the wagon, and saw an MG 42/59 on it, its crew pointing the weapon directly at him. At the same time, on the left side, a soldier appeared from behind the tanker and signaled them to stop, his assault rifle on the ready and, Lario noticed, several others rifles leveled on his vehicle approaching the roadblock.
Without hesitation, Lario slowed down to a crawl, until he came to a complete stop once he got close to the soldier who came out from behind the tanker. The soldier approached Lario’s side window and started in English: “Town closed, you turn…” then he saw Lario’s uniform and the passenger in the pickup and quickly switched to his native Italian language.
“You guys from the frontline?”
“What the h$ll is going on here” asked Lario.
The army corporal gave Lario a disoriented look, bloodshot eyes in a smoke covered face. “Sir, are you kidding me? Are you guys all they sent as reinforcements”?
“We are on a recon mission Corporal; we are from the 11th Bersaglieri Battalion, Ariete Brigade. I ask you again son: what is going on here”.
The corporal licked his lips and looked down at the town chaos, then turned at Lario again.
“Sir, we have a huge mass of people coming from Tampa Bay devastated area. Tampa is a burning furnace. Two nuclear weapons have been released on it. Tampa and S. Petersburg downtown areas ain’t no more. Whatever is left of the population is overflowing the countryside, crazy for food, water and shelter. COMFOD dispatched a battalion of CARABINIERI here, the last operative battalion for crowd control. They are trying” said the corporal almost with tears in his eyes, “but they are slowly losing the battle. Whatever is left of the rear COMFOD support troops is manning this line between the town and our front line troops. The order, if the mob overwhelms the CARABINIERI containment cordon, is to shoot. Do you understand Sir? We have been ordered to open fire on the civilians if things fall apart”.
Lario looked down the valley, and then looked back at the corporal.
“What unit do you belong to, corporal?”
“79th Logistic battalion, COMFOD overall command Sir”
“And you have been assigned to guard the main road north”?
“Yes Sir, all the front line troops are committed. Apart from the CARABINIERI battalion, there is nothing left to contain the apocalypse that hit the population”.
“What about the local authorities”?
“As far as I know, Tampa Bay police department was wiped out with the rest of the population. Before the exodus began, I think that COMFOD tried to establish communication with the American National Guard Florida and with elements of the American 82nd Airborne division, which were believed to be in transit from Tallahassee to cut our supply line east. COMFOD wanted to organize a truce to deal with this tragedy, but then communications went down and nothing could be done. At COMFOD they believe that the entire United States have been attacked with nuclear weapons. According to the rumors, Florida has been one of the less damaged states: Tampa, Miami, Canaveral, and Jacksonville have all been hit with intermediate warheads. Other parts of the country have been hit more heavily, they say. COMFOD managed to make sporadic contact with some French coming east from Mobile, may be by ship. I do not know what the outcome of that has been”.
Lario took some moments to process all the information, then he looked the corporal right in his scared eyes.
“Listen carefully son” he said with a compassionate look. “We were supposed to recon as far as Tampa Bay, but I have the impression that our mission will not proceed beyond here. We are now going to go past your check point to Brooksville”
…Lario paused and gave another look at the chaos in front of him.
“We are going to go down there and collect all possible details of what it’s going on. We need to report back as soon as possible to our command, to update them about the situation. I have the impression that the chain of command has completely collapsed, and what you told me unfortunately confirms this fear of mine”.
“How about you stay here with us Sir? We have no command here, and if the mob breaks the CARABINIERI ring, I really don’t know what to do Sir” the logistic corporal was now looking at Lario with a desperate expression.
“I would stay with you if I could corporal. But my orders say otherwise. You continue to do what you have done so far, and you will be doing well. Don’t worry”, Lario said to try and calm him down; “the CARABINIERI are super though; they will not let go. Meanwhile COMFOD should be able to envision a viable line of action. We have to believe son, and do the best we can. Do you have any fuel in that tanker?” Lario finally asked.
“Yes Sir, it’s one of the last tankers in the entire Army Corps. We were supposed to refuel the front line troops and then distribute the rest to the civilians. There is no way that we could resupply the corps twice, so our orders were to help the civilians out of here. Apparently there are not a lot of places where to go anyway and besides, we got stuck in this emergency and we couldn’t even complete our trip to refuel the combat units”.
“Well” said Lario, “you have a chance to do it now. Order your men to fill my vehicle before we get down there. There is a chance that we might have to run back up here in a hurry, and not necessarily using the road.
After they left the outer ring line, Lario and Goia proceeded south along the road. Goia, who didn’t say a word during the entire time Lario conferred with the logistic corporal, finally said:
“What exactly do you have in mind now Sir?”
Lario did not turn his head, while he slowly continued to approach Brooksville.
“We get down there, collect any possible information and we go back to battalion; this is what I have in mind. We need to know if this situation can be contained, because if it cannot… well it is my impression that the entire brigade is screwed”.
As they approached the town, descending from the hill, they lost perspective on the general situation, but they acquired details about the portion of the military cordon they were approaching. After Lario drove the pickup past the first buildings he immediately spotted a platoon of motorized CARABINIERI guarding the route. A lieutenant in full antiriot gear run towards them as both Lario and Goia opened their doors and came out of the vehicle.
“Who are you and what are you doing here” the Lieutenant approached Lario brusquely.
“Sergeant Vailatti 9th Col Moschin; and this is Private Goia, 11th Bersaglieri. We came from Nobleton, frontline east. We heard about the situation from the troops that are manning the outer ring. Our original mission was to scout and refer to our command. We didn’t expect to run into trouble that soon”.
The Lieutenant looked at Lario’s shoulder patch. The Parachute and the Gladium with the number 9 on it always commanded a certain amount of respect to anybody in the military. He just let go a bit of his rudeness and continued: “we are responsible for crowd control in sector five, the north eastern arc of the containment ring. One of my sections was overwhelmed and massacred just a few blocks south of here yesterday night. I do not have the strength to form a coherent line anymore. I am loosely dispatching teams to plug the gap. I am almost out of men even to do just that though. If you want”… the Lieutenant looked at Lario with a steady expression… “I could use you two to form a manipolo and send you down there. In this sector the mission is now to try and prevent the town folks to be massacred by their city countrymen coming from Tampa and Petersburg. Maintaining the containment ring is now secondary. If you are willing to help, CARABINIERE Mancuso here can join you to form a manipolo of three. I’ll give you an armored van and you can go ahead and patrol the area. That would also give you a chance to collect all the information you need for your command”.
The Lieutenant looked on his left at the smoke, the fire, and the screaming coming from his area of responsibility. The ballistic visor of his helmet up, he turned at Lario once again and waited.
Lario looked at Goia, paused for a second: then turned back at the Lieutenant.
“Give me some equipment and that spare man you were talking about. You’ve got yourself an extra team of bouncers for this morning”.
“Mancuso” the Lieutenant yelled to a private that was guarding a vehicle…”Call Giuffre’; I’m giving you guys that VM and two guys from the army here. Giuffre’ will be driving the VM.
You are under command of Sergeant…” the Lieutenant paused and looked at Lario’s name tag.
“Vailatti” said Lario looking back at the officer.
“You are under the command of Sergeant Vailatti. Sweep up sector five: one single sweep, just to keep the crowd calm, and then rush back right here”
The Lieutenant looked back at Vailatti’
“Sergeant, bring me back my equipment and my personnel in one piece and…thank you very much for your help”.
That said, the officer turned around and walked to a man that was carrying a big vehicular radio on his back.
“Ok gentlemen” Lario said to the two CARABINIERI manning the armored VM vehicle.
“Let’s get this straight. You know the situation on the terrain, so you will be directing us to the points you believe are more critical. I will issue orders only if we get involved into something, but until then, the direction of the mission is to you Giuffre’.
“Yes Sir, answered the young CARABINIERE. Please get in the back of the Van and arm yourself. We don’t have much left to tell you the truth: the water cannon vehicles are gone, the supply of tear gas is gone. We’re doing it the old way: club, shield and guts”.
Lario and Goia climbed in the back of the VM and started to gear up. Both decided to leave their Kevlar helmets on, Lario and Goia picked up shields and clubs from the vehicle racks and left their assault rifles and grenades in it. Lario thought for a second, and then decided to keep his sidearm.
Giuffre’ drove the VM through ghost downtown Brooksville, with Lario sticking his head out of one of the roof hatches. He put on his goggles to avoid the effect of the dense smoke and dust. Sector five was an abandoned and devastated area, were there was no cordon in place any more. Loose patrols of CARABINIERI, mounted or on foot, were all was left to contain the disaster.
The street Giuffre’ was driving on was practically desert, until he turned left to a particular crossroad. All of a sudden Lario spotted action going on in a front yard. Two young men were beating to death a more aged fellow who was down, probably already unconscious since he did not even try to protect himself anymore.
“Stooop right here” Lario shouted to the driver.
“Team dismounts here. Let’s disperse those goons over there. Giuffre’, as soon as we are out, you continue to drive around here. Do not stop the vehicle for any reason and keep coming back every two minutes or so to check on us. DO NOT LET THE VEHICLE FALL IN THE HANDS OF ANYBODY; it is full of military weaponry. Did you get than son”?
“Yes Sir”, answered the young CARABINIERE; “I’ll circle around and check on you guys every two minutes”. He repeated.
Lario opened the back door of the VM and jumped down in the smoke and the rubbles. He didn’t even turn to check if his team was following him. A weak but steady wind was moving smoke and yellow dust west to east as Lario run towards his objective.
As the two men realized that a team of soldiers was getting at them, they let go of their prey. One of them panicked and started run toward the house the front yard belonged to, while the second one, a though guy, faced the approaching team with a club in his hand.
“C’mon you dago bastards; C’mon, show me what you’ve got”, the goon said swinging his club
Lario could not understand what the man was saying and wasn’t interested in that either. When he was ten yards from him, he slowed his run into a trot and readied his riot club in a lower position. With a single steady movement from low to high Lario impacted the club on the man solar plexus and even heard the crack of the rib cage giving up from the blow. The thug fell on the ground with a gurgling sound, clearly incapacitated by the devastating blow inflicted by Lario.
For a brief moment, the manipolo stopped to check on the original victim of the assault; a man that could have been in his forties, completely covered in blood flowing from no less than five wounds on his head, arms and body. An unnatural posture of his left leg, also suggested a probable compound fracture. The man needed stabilized and Lario, who had brought some of his first aid kits with him was about to do exactly that.
Then, a terrifying woman scream coming from inside the house, made Mancuso and Goia turn at once towards the front door. Another scream, from a different woman, followed the first one soon after that. Noises of crushed furniture also came from the house and Lario decided to momentarily leave the wounded civilian to go and check the apparently more urgent situation.
“That sun of a bitch that fled from us must have stormed the house instead of getting lost when he had a chance”…said Lario… “There are more civilians in the house guys”!
“We go check it out boss” said Goia. It was the first time that the recon platoon private called him that way; a new tone of even higher respect clearly noticeable in his voice.
“No way” shouted Lario. “We stick together. The team moves together or not at all. Reform the manipolo and let’s go get those women”.
Lario, Mancuso and Goia stormed the house, as more screams and noise came out of it. As they rushed through the front door, they immediately realized they walked into trouble.
No less than four thugs were busy on the women, beating them as they tried to resist the attempt to be raped. Two of the four goons were holding down and beating on the almost naked victims; a teenage girl and a woman. The other two thugs, their pants down, were doing their business on them. The screams of the two ladies, and their faces covered in blood, froze Lario and his team in place.
Before Lario could give any further order or initiate any actions, more crazed up savages, from lateral rooms, poured at the team; no less than ten, eleven guys charged at them with fanatic rage. At the same time, the four that were on the women, tried to get their pants back on, and to take action as well.
“Form the MANIPOLO” shouted Lario trying to make his voice heard above the general fracas inside the house.
Lario knew right there that they were in trouble. They’d got themselves in a situation that all anti-riot training schools considered one to be avoided at all costs: stuck in a semi enclosed space, stormed from multiple sides by a vastly superior force, the only points in favor of the team being that none of the goons seemed to be armed, and that all units of the Italian army receive at least basic training in anti-riot.
Lario managed to set up the basic fighting formation in crowd control operation; a fortified group (MANIPOLO) of at least three soldiers, each facing out in a different direction, using their shields as walls of the fortress and their clubs to keep the aggressors in check.
Since the very beginning Lario had perceived that this was no ordinary crowd though. These guys were a group of mindless savages that could not be intimidated or discouraged.
A human wave of 10 thugs threw itself at the MANIPOLO from 2 different directions. By pure chance, Lario was the less involved character in the action in the early stage. Mancuso sustained the charge of no less than three goons, while Goia tried to keep another couple of them at bay. Many of the assaulters impeded each other movement, and were easily repelled by the shields and the clubs of Goia and Mancuso; but a couple of blows managed to go through, and Mancuso had his right arm trauma protection plate shattered, and his arm hurt by multiple blows. Many of the aggressors did not even try to strike at the soldiers; they just dove on the group in the attempt to grapple them, tackling them down, deprive them from their protections and kill them.
At first, the steadier reaction came from Lario, who found himself on the less exposed side. He saw a flash of one of the most aggressive savages reaching for Mancuso helmet, and he thrust his club right in his stomach. A spur of saliva came out of the goon mouth. He went down with a grunt and stopped moving.
Immediately after that, things started to go south for the manipolo: thugs falling down and trying to stand up again, confused mass of arms legs, and clubs rotating in the air and on the ground.
In an attempt to parry a particularly vicious blow, Goia lose his shield and got hit hard on a leg. He kneeled down in pain, trying to continue to maneuver his club to defend himself. On his own side Mancuso faced no less than four enemies, who were trying to force him down and go from there. He barely managed not to get tangled, but he had to give up any attempt to strike back at the bad guys. Only Lario, who still enjoyed more freedom of movements than his companions, managed to put down another thug, with a thrust of his club: with blood squirting from his face, the ugly guy went down in a world of pain and shock.
And then Lario made what probably was a bad mistake: as he saw some of the crazies trying to take off with the women through the other side of the house, he tried to extricate himself from the melee and get to them. Not only he failed to do so, momentarily falling down and losing control of the situation, but more importantly, he compromised for some vital seconds the tactical integrity of the manipolo, offering an open spot for the crazies to focus their attack on. For one more moment Goia managed to keep the assault at bay by downing one more bad guy with his club, but then Mancuso got finally forced down by two enemies who managed to grapple and immobilize him. With one side of the manipolo collapsing, the gang finally managed to get at Lario as well. One of them managed to grapple him, before he could do anything with his club.
Rapidly Lario felt that things were starting to fall apart, as he looked down at Mancuso and saw him without helmet, two crazed beating on him. He turned his head towards Goia and saw him down too, even though he was still fighting and struggling.
Lario did not wait any more. He dropped his club and extracted his handgun. He put the barrel on the head of the thug that was struggling with him and squeezed the trigger. The guy head exploded like a melon spreading blood and brain all over the fighting bubble of men. New target: Lario hit him right in the face, with similar result as the first shot. He managed to blow a third guy leg, before he noticed with horror that the remaining geeks, would not hesitate or retreat, despite the carnage. On the contrary, they doubled their effort to get a hold of the “heroes” and kill them all. At the same time, Lario noticed that the women and their assaulters were by now gone and nowhere to be seen any more. Again, Lario looked at his mates; Mancuso down with people beating him unconscious, and Goia still weakly reacting to the repeated and prolonged assaults of more and more enraged thugs.
With the force of desperation, Lario raised his Beretta once more, and opened a hole in another leg, before being hit on the arm that held the pistol. He drop it. One crazed thug threw himself at him. Lario tried to struggle to break free: an incredible weight on his chest, one blow, then another.
A flash of pain up his head
“F@ck it...let...it...be” was last Lario’s thought. Then everything went dark.
Picture #1
Lario in high school. He wanted to be a professional marathon runner
Picture #2
CARABINIERI units dispatched to Brooksville before the outbreak of the riots
Picture#3
CARABINIERI inner containment cordon in Brooksville
|