Ashes - Ambush In The Ashes Part 14

123.

"Bodybag them and put them in trucks until we can clear this f.u.c.king swampy area. Ask Chase if the wounded can take the ride out of here."

Seconds later, "Affirmative, boss. But not for any extended length of time."

"All right, let's get these flattened tires changed and mount up and move out. G.o.dd.a.m.nit!" Ben cursed. "I hate not knowing my enemy. See if we can drag some prisoners out of that swamp. Maybe we'll get lucky this time."

A dozen miles down the road, the Rebels came to a village, the buildings still standing, but the homes and few businesses devoid of human life.

"Check it all out for b.o.o.by traps," Ben ordered. "Then see to the wounded ASAP." He looked all around him at the still and silent village.

"d.a.m.n, I hate mysteries. I never did like mysteries. They bug me."

"Who attacked us back there, General?" a reporter asked, walking up.

"I don't know. We did take some prisoners and they're being questioned now. Maybe we'll find out, but the odds are we won't."

"What will you do with the prisoners after you've questioned them, General Raines?" Marilyn d.i.c.kson asked. "Shoot them?"

Ben sighed. "I doubt it, Ms. d.i.c.kson. We'll probably patch them up as best we can and leave them behind."

"It was our understanding that the Rebels always executed theirprisoners," a reporter said.

"Whoever told you that is full of s.h.i.t," Ben said bluntly. "If we're dealing with murderers and rapists and child molesters and the like, yes, we sometimes do execute them. But these men today are soldiers, following orders from someone. They'll be treated as fairly and as decently as is possible, under the circ.u.mstances, 124.

and left behind. Now if you will all excuse me, I have things to do."

The Rebel dead were buried in a local cemetery, with simple military honors, in unmarked graves. The Rebels had learned to do that because many times, depending on the enemy, marked graves were opened and the bodies desecrated and mutilated.

Ben explained that to the reporters.

"How awful!" a woman exclaimed.

"We are not well liked," Ben said simply, then turned away and walked off.

Ben did not hear Marilyn d.i.c.kson say very sarcastically, "I simply cannot imagine why that would be."

But Jersey heard her.

On the way to Conakry on the coast, where they were to resupply before traveling on to Sierra Leone, the Rebels pa.s.sed through a dozen villages, all deserted. The town of Boke was a shambles, ravaged by war, and so was Boffa, a town south of Boke. The Rebel doctors attended to the few people that remained, mostly the very old, the sick and the dying, and then they moved on after leaving them food. There was litde else they could do.

The highway, and it was stretching the imagination to call it that, missed the town of Coyah by a few dozen miles as the Rebels turned west heading for the city of Conakry.

"A ma.s.s of humanity, to use the words of the Scouts," Corrie told Ben.

"But they are making some effort to cope."

"Gangs?" Ben questioned.

125.

"Negative. They split a few days ago when they learned we were on the way."

"I hate to ask, but how many people are we dealing with here?"

"About half a million."

Ben groaned. "d.a.m.n! Is the airport functional?"

"Affirmative. Once we chase the people off the runways. They're camped all over the place."

"All right. Tell Nick to send us half his doctors and Paul Harrison and Mike Post to do the same. Tell them to share some of their medicalsupplies. Thank G.o.d we do have ample vaccines and medicines."

"The airport is on the main road into the city," Cor-rie reminded him.

"I'll set up a CP there."

"The SEALs went in with the gunships and set up a defensive line along with the Scouts. So far no one has made any serious attempts to breech it."

"We'll be there by midafternoon. The ships?"

"Standing by well off the coast. The people in the city are hungry, boss. It could get touchy. Probably will."

"We'll handle it," Ben said. "One way or the other."

"We have shooting trouble with starving people, that will be just what the press is waiting for," Anna said.

"I know," Ben said softly. "But I won't lose a Rebel to a G.o.dd.a.m.n mob when I can prevent it."

The column arrived at the airport just in time. Huge mobs were gathering all around the runways and the Scouts and SEALs, as tough as both units were, were about to be overrun by the screaming mobs.

Tanks began to circle the airport as Rebels by the hundreds jumped from trucks to set up defensive lines. The mob paused.

"The gangs had surrounded the city, General," a Rebel SEAL told Ben.

"They cut off the people from food; took it for themselves."

126.

"Here's an interpreter, General," a Scout said, walking up leading a very reluctant-appearing man with him.

"A sound truck is being readied right now," Ben told the man. "You tell these people food is on the way. It will be handed out in an orderly fashion. If they try to breech our lines, we will open fire."

"The people are starving, General!" Stan Travis shouted the words. "You can't shoot starving people!"

"Get this son of a b.i.t.c.h out of here!" Ben ordered.

Stan was led away without protest. He knew better than to offer any resistance.

Ben turned to the local. "Tell the people to clear the runway. We have planes coming in. Tell them I want about fifty volunteers, men in good physical shape, to help unload the ships that will be docking very soon."

The interpreter climbed up onto the truck and took the microphone. The speakers howled in feedback and the scared locals looked wildly all around him. The volume was adjusted and he received a nod to go ahead.

Whoever the interpreter was, and Ben never did find out, for as soon as the man finished speaking, and got a chance, he jumped down from the bed of the truck and disappeared into the crush of humanity. But he had donehis job. Within moments, the mobs had settled down and were backing up.

"That was close," Anna said.

"Too d.a.m.n close," her adopted father replied. "Cor-rie, tell the troops to keep gently pushing them back. No rough stuff, just be firm. We've managed to round up a dozen English-speaking locals, they'll a.s.sist.

We've got to get these runways clear of people and trash."

Ben turned to a Rebel SEAL. "How did the port look to you, Chief?"

"As far as we could tell without going in there, General, the harbor is clear. Of course, there is no harbor 127.

127.

master and the tugs are long gone. It's all up to the captains if they want to chance it."

"We'd have smash-ups for sure. h.e.l.l, there wouldn't be a dock left. How about small boats?"

"Plenty of those."

"We'll off-load that way. Corrie, tell the ships to anchor as close in as possible. Set up defensive lines at the port ASAP and get the trucks down there ready to receive supplies." He turned to the SEAL. "Can you find us a good distribution site in the city, Chief."

"No problem, General."

"Now we have to find people to captain the small craft . . ."

"We'll take care of that," a Scout quickly volunteered.

"Have at it," Ben told her.

The SEAL looked dubiously at the female Scout, but said nothing. He knew the females who made the spec ops units had no slack cut for them because of gender: they could either cut it, or they were washed out.

There was no such thing as preferential treatment in the SUSA, civilian workplace or military. No quotas, no such thing as affirmative action.

If one was qualified to do the job, they got hired. If they weren't, they hit the boards.

"Found a CP for you, boss," Cooper said, walking up with a group of Rebels. "It's in the old main terminal building. Just right."

"Okay, Coop, thanks." Ben looked slowly all around him. The crowds had almost disappeared, only a handful of diehards remaining. Ben's eyes narrowed as Stan Travis walked up with a small group of reporters.

"Travis!" Ben barked at him. "I have a word of warning for you. Take it to heart. If you ever, ever, interfere with me again, I will not hesitate to shoot you stone dead on the spot. Do you understand that, mister?"

128William W. Johnstone "es, sir," the reporter said. But he could not keep the hate from his words.

"You better understand it. I don't have the authority to order you home, but I can d.a.m.n sure banish you from this column, and I will, mister, I will."

Ben turned away and began the walk over to the main terminal building, his team with him. He knew he had not heard the last from Stan Travis.

129.

The small boats began bringing in food, including fifty pound sacks of rice and dried beans, later that afternoon. There were only a few instances of trouble, and the Rebels, with the help of some ex-Guinea army personnel who had volunteered to work with the Rebels, quickly handled it without any bloodshed.

Ben was impressed with the work of the ex-military personnel and told his people to see about making them into some sort of militia or police.

When asked, the men quickly agreed, and the first steps toward order were taken. The rebels outfitted them with uniforms and weapons and radios.

"The people are really in pretty good shape, except for the miserable diet, or lack of one, they've been forced to endure," Dr. Chase told Ben, over a gla.s.s of bourbon in Ben's CP the next evening.

"Supplies holding out?"

"Oh, yes. We're fine there. Those countries in Europe who agreed to help with this project have really come through."

"I just wonder how long they'll continue coming through after the reunited states start putting the pressure on them?"

"You think that will happen?"

"I think it's a possibility."

130.

Chase shook his head. "I'll argue that with you, Ben. If the reunited states tried to halt a humanitarian mission such as this one, there would be a howl from every capital around the world."

Ben smiled at his long-time friend. "You're probably right, Lamar. I just don't trust those people. I have a very deep-seated dislike for liberals."

Lamar finished his bourbon and stood up. "I have a very deep-seated dislike for politicians in general. b.a.s.t.a.r.ds thrive on bureaucracy. I think if a kid of mine said he wanted to grow up to be a politician I'd drown him."

Ben sat for a time after Lamar had gone. The gangs the Rebels had been pushing slowly southward could not keep running. They had to stop, turn around, and make a stand somewhere. Unless . . . Ben frowned. Well, thatwas a possibility. If Bruno was behind the gangs to some degree he just might allow them to cross over into his territory and use them for cannon fodder, thereby saving his troops. The more Ben thought about that, the more he felt that might be the case.

Ben picked up the just decoded communique from Base Camp One and reread it. Mike Richards's people had been busy and had done well. Paula Preston was indeed working for the new government of the reunited states. Her parents had been lifelong, highly dedicated workers in the left-wing of the democratic party. And Paula had been in lock-step with their socialistic ideology ever since she had reached the age of comprehension.

They had trained her well.

But if she was such a dedicated worker, and so trusted, why the h.e.l.l did her masters (that was the way Ben viewed people who gave their hearts and minds to the left-wing) leave her in North Africa? What the h.e.l.l was the point in that?

"Oh, s.h.i.t!" Ben muttered, sitting straight up in his 131.

131.

chair. "Of course. That has to be it. It was so obvious I didn't see it."

They must have known that Ben and his Rebels were planning to come here.

Must have known that the Rebels had been gearing up for this mission for a couple of years.

But that didn't necessarily mean the leak came from Ben's HQ. Those working on the mission back in Base Camp One had known of it for just as long, setting up supply lines, lining up ships and planes, working out logistics, and doing the hundreds of other things that went with such an operation.