Pappi pulled out the map as he parked the Lada behind the gas station. He didn’t want to get any closer to the border with those Russian soldiers guarding it. He needed to figure out another way across without being seen. As he continued to search the map, he found a little dirt road that looked like it ran along the border. Pappi looked up, and sure enough, roughly 50 meters from the gas station, there it was-a small, unassuming dirt road. In that moment, he decided to drive the Lada along that road. He would try to get as close to the border as he could that way, and then either cross on foot or try to ram the vehicle through the border fence if he thought he could.
Keeping the headlights off, he slowly moved down the dirt road, driving towards freedom. After traveling the small unkept road for a few minutes, he began to see the divide between the two countries. The area was not lit by lights along the border, but a clearing had been cut and a fence ran between it, clearly outlining the demarcation. Pappi pulled the car over off the road and turned it off, angling it slightly so he could get back into the vehicle in a hurry if he needed to.
He began to walk through the wooded area towards the demarcation line; he wanted to see with his eyes if there were any potential guard towers or roving patrols. As he approached the edge of the trees, he came upon the demarcation line. Looking left, and then right, he spotted two guard towers, roughly 500 meters away from him in either direction. As he inspected the fence, he could see it was roughly twelve feet in height, but did not look to be reinforced with any anti-vehicle rails or traps.
“I wish I could walk out there and inspect the fence,” Pappi thought. “Maybe I should just go back to the car and try to ram through it.”
After spending some time considering his options, Pappi glanced down at his watch and saw that it was roughly 0430 in the morning. He knew he needed to decide what he was going to do soon. The sun would be up in a few more hours. Pappi began to walk back to the Lada and started the vehicle. As he fastened his seatbelt, he heard a noise.
Several Russian soldiers began to approach his vehicle from behind him. They started to yell out to him. Pappi didn’t speak a lick of Russian, but he could tell by the tone of their voices that they were not happy with him.
In that moment, Pappi knew he needed to make a run for it or he’d become a prisoner of war. He slipped the car into gear, and then floored it. As he sped through first gear and started changing into second gear, the soldiers behind him opened fire with their AK-74s. Bullets began to shatter the rear windows of the Lada. Pappi looked into his driver side rearview mirror and saw one soldier talking on a radio while several others continued to fire more rounds into the car. Then the mirror suddenly shattered as it was hit by one of the bullets.
As shots continued to fire, his rear tires suddenly blew out. Pappi charged ahead, adrenaline racing. The engine was roaring as he changed into third gear and continued racing down the road. He was less than a hundred meters from the fence as his car drove into the cleared demarcation line.
Suddenly, the passenger side window exploded in a cloud of glass and flying shrapnel. More bullets began to punch their way through the passenger side of the vehicle as he neared the fence, shifting into fourth gear.
As the Lada rammed into the fence, the front of the vehicle nearly came to a halt, catapulting the rear of the car into the air, bending the fence and landing upside down. The engine began to emit a horrible sound and smoke began to fill the car. Pappi unclipped his seatbelt and fell to the roof of the vehicle. He quickly crawled out the driver side window and began to run for his life into the tree line on the Latvian side of the border. As he sprinted, he could hear the whizzing sounds of bullets flying past his head and body, kicking up dirt near his feet.
Just as he was about to make it into the woods, he felt something hot and hard slam into the back of his right shoulder, throwing him to the ground. As he laid there on the ground, trying to catch his breath, bullets continued to whip overhead, hitting branches and trees, sending flakes of wooden shrapnel flying all around him.
As he recovered from the shock of being hit, he slowly began to crawl into the woods and away from the gunfire. As he dragged his body along the ground, he heard more shouting. Several vehicles roared towards him. He could tell they were closing in on him, but there was nothing he could do at that point. If these were the Russians, then they had him.
A small group of soldiers ran towards him with their weapons raised, and as he saw their uniforms, a huge wave of euphoria washed over him. They were Americans.
An unknown man knelt next to him and spoke in English. “Are you an American?” he asked incredulously.
At that moment, Pappi knew he had made it to safety. He smiled and answered, “Yes. I’m Lieutenant Colonel Rob Fortney, US Air Force.” Then passed out from his injuries.
When he woke up two days later, he discovered he had been transported to the military hospital at Landstuhl in Germany.
One of the doctors walked in after learning he had regained consciousness. “You are one lucky soldier, son,” he said. From his wrinkles and grey hair, the doctor looked like he had been kept in the military a little longer than normal-he had definitely seen his share of war wounds.
Pappi was still sort of orienting himself to what was even wrong with his body. He could see plenty of bandages, but at the moment he wasn’t sure how serious it actually was. “What happened to me, Doc?” he asked.
“You were shot in the back of the shoulder. It required a series of surgeries to put everything back together. You are stable now, of course, but you are actually going to be flown back to the US for additional surgery and recovery. You are going to have a metal plate where your shoulder blade used to be, and need extensive physical therapy, but honestly, all things considered, it could have been a lot worse.”
The doctor let that sink in for a few moments before he said, “Listen, there’s an air force intelligence officer waiting outside that wants to ask you some questions about how you got out of there. I told him he’d have to wait for a while until you are up to it. So, take your time, but when you feel like you can tell your story, go ahead and hit this button to turn on your extra light.”
Pappi nodded. Once he felt like he had his head back on straight, he signaled for the officer to come on into the room. He explained how he had evaded the search party, and then eventually stole a Lada and drove to the border. The officer asked him several questions to clarify, but the conversation was friendly.
At the end of the interview, Pappi asked, “Hey, do you know anything about my co-pilot?”
The air force officer’s face fell. “There’s no easy way to tell you this. The Russians captured him and have him listed as a prisoner of war. There’s no further information I can provide to you other than that.”
Enemies Within
It was a beautiful September morning as the leaders of both the Republican and Democrat parties from the House and Senate walked into the Oval Office. It was unusual for them to be called to the White House so early in the day. As they entered the Oval, they all immediately observed that several additional chairs had been brought in so that there would be room for everyone. They could tell it was a serious meeting, seeing that the Director of the FBI and the Attorney General were also in attendance (neither of whom looked very happy).
As the Congressional leaders took their seats opposite of each other on the couches, the President took his seat at the head arm chair, opposite the Attorney General (AG) and FBI Director. His face was somber, and it looked like he had aged a year or two within a few days.