Vasilyev shrugged. “Also excellent questions. This time, though, I can only say I have no idea. But I see no practical alternative.”
Grishkov grunted and continued the Kornet‘s assembly with a snap of its metal retaining bracket. He then put it back as far as it would go in the SUV and pulled out the launch tube’s tripod. A few minutes later, the tripod was set up next to a car that Vasilyev noted Grishkov had picked only after careful examination.
“So, what makes this car the perfect place to send this welcome gift to our visitors?” Vasilyev asked with a smile.
“All will become clear in a moment,” Grishkov said with an answering smile, as he used a small metal tool to open the locked right front car door, and then turn on the car’s electrical power, but not its engine. He then pressed buttons that lowered all of the car’s windows.
Next, Grishkov adjusted the tripod’s height so that its launch tube mount was level with the bottom of the car window.
“I see,” Vasilyev said with a nod. “You will place the launch tube so that each end rests on one of the car doors. But why go to this trouble?”
Grishkov smiled again, but this time there was no warmth in it. “This is a trick we learned the hard way from the Chechens. The use of the car has two advantages. First, the mount is more stable than with the tripod alone, providing better accuracy. Even more important, I have picked the oldest car here, made mostly from steel rather than aluminum and plastic. When our surviving guests respond to our gift, you will be happy to have over a ton of good German steel between you and them.”
Vasilyev clapped Grishkov on the shoulder. “I’m glad we decided to stick together, rather than each going to a different desalination plant. Now all we can do is wait.”
They didn’t have to wait long. Less than ten minutes later, most of the front gate disappeared in a blinding flash of light and roar of sound. After a few moments of silence punctuated by the screams of the few gate guards who had been wounded rather than killed, automatic weapons fire and the grinding gears of heavy vehicles announced the advance of the main attack force.
Just as Grishkov had predicted, a large truck led the way, grinding over the debris that had been the front gate. With the launch tube now attached to the tripod, Grishkov took careful aim, and pulled the trigger.
A loud “whoosh” marked the thermobaric round’s firing, and Grishkov was pleased to see that the backblast was not nearly as pronounced as with the rounds he had fired in Chechnya. He glanced backward and was also pleased to see that Vasilyev had followed instructions and stayed away from the launch tube's exhaust. Even better, he had just finished placing the PKM machine gun on its mount, and had attached its belt-fed ammunition.
The Kornet’s round lived up to its “Comet” meaning, producing an explosion that was already impressive even before the truck's gas tank ignited. Grishkov could not imagine anyone inside surviving the impact.
Unfortunately, it was not the only vehicle. It was difficult to see through the smoke and dust thrown up by both the truck bomb and the Kornet’s round, but Grishkov counted at least three smaller vehicles behind the burning hulk of the passenger truck, and the dim shape of another truck behind them.
Grishkov grabbed the PKM machine gun and began sending rounds towards the attackers, just as he heard Vasilyev’s RPG-7 buck beside him.
One of the three cars most clearly visible at the gate exploded, and several armed men near it were knocked down by the blast. They didn’t get up again.
Rounds began to impact against the car sheltering Vasilyev and Grishkov.
However, they could see that some of the guard force were firing at the attackers through the plant’s windows, so the attackers were unable to concentrate all their fire on the two Russians.
Vasilyev’s second RPG round barely missed another one of the attackers’ vehicles, but hit the ground close enough to the men moving forward that its shrapnel badly injured two of them. Grishkov’s PKM machine gun was steadily pumping out rounds, not only killing and injuring several attackers but also discouraging an immediate mass run at their position.
“Last round,” Vasilyev said, as he aimed the RPG-7 at a car that was still moving forward.
The professional soldier in Grishkov made him shake his head. Once you knew an RPG was aimed at you, the smart move was to bail out of the vehicle and flank the grenade launcher. Driving straight ahead to give the RPG a better target was probably the worst approach.
Grishkov’s assessment was proved correct by another explosion. “Not bad, old man,” he said, without stopping his methodical sweep of rounds sent by the PKM towards the attackers trying to advance on their position.
Vasilyev said nothing, but was surprised to feel happier than he had in a long time. He was too busy to think about it, but if he had it would have been easy to explain. There was no doubt that, soldier or not, Vasilyev was making a difference in this battle.
Now Vasilyev threw an RGN grenade towards the closest attackers he could see. Designed to take advantage of lessons learned in Afghanistan, it had both a sensitive impact fuse and a time delay fuse. This meant that it would explode when it hit any surface, even water, and after a brief delay would explode even if the impact fuse failed.
The point was to prevent the enemy from picking up an unexploded grenade and throwing it back, which had happened numerous times in Afghanistan.
The RGN grenade also had a limited lethal radius, which at first Vasilyev had thought was a disadvantage. The armorer on the Admiral Kuznetsov had then explained that you could keep throwing it at attackers as they came closer without endangering yourself.
From the screams and curses Vasilyev could hear from their perch behind the German sedan, it worked exactly as he’d been told.
The attackers showed they were still in the fight, though, as the car’s front windshield exploded in a shower of glass. Several fragments cut into Grishkov’s face and arms, which began to bleed freely.
Vasilyev had a medical kit beside him, and tossed Grishkov some gauze.
Grishkov used it to wipe the blood from his eyes, and then stuck part of it to his forehead to stop the bleeding that had threatened to interfere with his vision. That done, he continued to fire his PKM machine gun at the attackers.
Only one of the attackers’ cars was still intact and moving, and now it accelerated from its position just in front of the truck that both Vasilyev and Grishkov believed must be carrying the nuclear weapon.
Straight at them.
One man in the front passenger seat and another on the rear driver's side leaned their automatic weapons outside their windows and, without even a pretense of aiming, emptied the magazines in their direction.
Grishkov automatically noted that both men appeared to be using an AK-74, or one of its many variants. Any possibility that the prospect of being killed by a Russian weapon might seem ironic was eliminated by Grishkov’s service in Chechnya. Nearly all of the weapons carried by the rebels there had been Russian, either purchased or captured.
Though the car was still too far away for Grishkov to see the driver, he concentrated his fire on where he knew he had to be. Seconds later, the car began to swerve just as they could hear some of the AK-74 rounds beginning to impact the front of their car.
Vasilyev tossed another RGN grenade towards the car, though he doubted he would be able to hit the rapidly moving target. He had never heard the American expression that “close only counts with horseshoes and hand grenades,” but he would have appreciated its humor, and its accuracy.
Vasilyev’s grenade exploded well short of the speeding car, but one of its shrapnel fragments sliced into the car’s right front tire, causing it to deflate immediately. Combined with the swerve caused by the mortally wounded driver’s slide into unconsciousness, the result was to flip the vehicle.