The plough girl - part twelve
By Diana the Valkyrie
A bad air day


Olga

In the air, the Russians were dominant, and that was a problem
for my brothers in the Ukrainian army. NATO were refusing to give
material help, which is understandable since Ukraine is not a member
of NATO. So it was down to our flyers ... and our plough girls.

Obviously, aeroplanes are most vulnerable on the ground. There
was an airfield near where I was hiding, so I went there first,
at night.  I used my sling to take out the patrolling soldiers,
tore a hole in the chain-link fence and wriggled through. I soon
found what I was looking for - a barrel of gasoline. It was standing
in the open with a bunch of other barrels. I suppose they thought
that the weight would make them impossible to steal. You'd need a
forklift truck ...  or a plough girl. It weighed about 300 pounds,
so for ease of carrying, I hoisted it on to my shoulder - I carried
it just like I used to carry my plough.

I pushed it though the hole in the fence, followed it through,
and ran with it on my shoulder into the forest. The whole operation
took about an hour.

What I needed now, was information. Where are the
airfields? Especially, where is the big central airfield? A pilot
would know, so I needed a pilot.

The next night, I went back to the airfield. They hadn't noticed
the missing barrel or the hole in the fence - sloppy security. They
would have the two dead patrollers, but wouldn't know what killed
them or why.  So I used my sling to kill their replacements, then
made my way to the tents where the pilots lived.

I chose a tent, and entered. There were two guys there, one more
than I needed, so I knocked them both out, tied and gagged the one I
wanted, waited until his eyes opened and while he watched, I killed
the other one by crushing his body between my thighs. Because I
wanted the survivor to know that he was in deep trouble.

I jogged back to my forest hideout carrying the pilot on my shoulder,
and dumped him on the ground. Then I explained the situation.

"You're a Russian officer, I'm a Ukrainian soldier. You're going to
tell me where the airfields are. You and I know that this information
is secret, but you saw what I did to your friend, and I'm going to
do the same to you. Your soft body will cave in to the pressure of
my thighs, and the pain will increase and increase until you give
in and tell all." And just to show how serious I was, I broke his
little finger.

"Trakhni svoyu mat" he replied obscenely. "Resistance is useless. It
will just bring more pain," and I broke another finger. Then I
got serious.  I got behind him, wrapped my thighs round his body,
linked my ankles, and squeezed. I heard the crack as his first rib
broke. "That's one," I said, "There are 23 more."

The ribs protect the delicate organs inside - heart, lungs and
so forth. Without the ribs keeping them safe, these organs can be
easily crushed; death comes soon after.

I broke another finger, then squeezed with my thighs again. "You've
got 206 bones, and I can break all of them." He groaned with the
pain.  "I can make the pain stop - just tell me the locations of
all the airfields."

He shook his head, so I broke another rib, and he screamed. "No-one
can hear you," I told him, "we're in the middle of nowhere. It's
just you and me, and I'm a plough girl, so my powerful muscles will
just tear your body apart, slowly, piece by piece."

He resisted for several minutes, but eventually his mind was
overwhelmed by the increasing pain, and he gave in. I made a list
of the airfields in this region, and then I sat and looked at
him. "You've been very helpful," I said, "so I'm going to give you
a painkiller." He moaned, and a quick twist of his neck relieved
him of all pain.

So now I had what I needed; a list of targets, and the means to
attack them. I stole another barrel of gasoline, and set off for
Zaporizha, their hub airfield.

I climbed a tree, and had a look at my target. The fencing was a
lot more substantial than the chain link fences I'd seen. I wasn't
going to be able to penetrate that fence before a large number of
Russians would be shooting at me.

No. What I needed, was artillery. I needed to be able to throw my
ammo, a 300 pound gasoline barrel, about 1000 feet, in order to
reach the most vulnerable places on the base. And not even a plough
girl can throw that much weight, that far. It would be nice if I had
a 155mm cannon - but I didn't. What I had was two gasoline drums,
a forest, and plenty of wood.

So I built a trebuchet. Essentially, that's a really big sling,
powered by a falling weights. The weight would be a basket of rocks
(and there were plenty of rocks). A big trebuchet could hurl a 500
pound object, at least 1000 feet.

How did medieval people lift a 500 pound object into the trebuchet's
hurling pouch? I suppose a dozen men could do it if they worked
together, but I think it's more likely that they persuaded a plough
girl to help.

It took a couple of weeks to make "Vovk Viyny", the Wolf of War,
but when I was ready, I lined it up carefully on the fuel dump,
loaded up the 15 tons of rocks that would power the throw, put the
gasoline barrel in the pouch, stuffed a lit fuse into the opening,
and pulled the trigger.

There was no "bang", of course, just a soft thump as the trebuchet
arm hit the padded stop. The sling continued with the barrel, and
it was released at the zenith of the swing. The barrel flew straight
and true, hit the fuel dump, burst, and flames spread all over. More
fuel at the dump caught fire until there was a raging inferno.

Russians were running around in panic. They realised it was an
attack, but from where? A trebuchet works almost silently. Meanwhile,
I was reloading my artillery, adjusted the aiming point, and let
fly again. This time. I hit the ammo dump, which exploded with a
huge detonation.

OK - time to bug out. I left the trebuchet in place, because I
wanted the Russians to know what had caused so much damage. I can
easily build another one, near another airfield.






Read the full story at http://www.amysconquest.com