Ashes - Ambush In The Ashes Part 21

177.

"Every battalion meeting resistance," Corrie said, as the column put Lome behind them and were advancing north toward the junction at Notse.

"It's begun," Ben replied. "Cooper, pull over so Corrie can establish an uplink. When that's done, Corrie, ask what type of uniforms the enemy is wearing and if there are any whites leading the groups."

The column waited until the portable dish could be set up and Corrie could check with each battalion. "No standard uniforms, boss," she finally reported. "Some are wearing ragged remnants of uniforms but most are in civilian clothes. There are a few whites who seem to be in command."

"Bruno's advisors," Ben said. "He's either sent some of his own officers up to train and take command, or he's hired mercenaries. Probably the latter. All right, Corrie. Thanks. Let's get this show back on the road."

The column rolling once more, slowly on the nearly nonexistent highway, Ben said, "b.u.mp the Scouts and a.s.sess the situation at the junction."

"Scouts report a slow troop build-up all around."

"So this is not going to be an ambush?"

"Doesn't look that way."

"And they're being obvious about it," Ben questioned.

178.

"No longer making any attempt to conceal their movements."

"Odd," Ben muttered. "They have no tanks, no artillery, only a few mortars and machine guns, and they're setting up to go head to head with us. That makes no sense."

Ben opened his map case and carefully went over a map of the region.

There was no other route open to them. Ben could not ask for reports from eyes in the sky because the helicopters were all grounded because of the unpredictable weather. Anyway, most of those a.s.signed to Ben had been forced to return to Ghana because there were no other safe landing areas for them to refuel and have maintenance done.

It was all ground work for the Rebels now."When we get within range of the junction," Ben said, "we'll set up artillery and pound the c.r.a.p out of the enemy positions. But we'll be alert for any flanking movements or an attack from the rear. I think that's what they've got in mind. Just as soon as the Scouts report us able to fight our way through the junction, we'll make a run for it and smash through. If my hunch is right, we'll catch those attempting to flank us and come up behind us flatfooted and can put some breathing room between us."

"One hour until we can be in any sort of effective range," Beth reported, doing some calculations without being told.

"Good enough. Let's keep our fingers crossed that I'm right about this.

Corrie, tell the Scouts they're going to have to act as FO's."

"Right, boss."

"My company will face north with the artillery, the others will set up left and right and take up rear guard positions."

"Advising now," Corrie replied.

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"It's a pretty good bet that those coming up from behind and flanking will be lightly armed. They're having to move too fast over lousy terrain to be carrying anything heavy. Maybe a few mortars, but that's all. When we stop, I want every mortar and Big Thumper we've got ready to bang ASAP."

Corrie was talking to the company commanders even as Ben was speaking.

The team had been together so long each member could practically sense what the other would do. With Ben and Corrie, it was almost as if they were hooked into some sort of invisible mental link.

"Forty-five minutes," Beth said.

"Scouts reporting heavy concentration of enemy build-up nearly complete at junction. They're dug in tight."

"In a few minutes, they're going to wish they'd dug those holes a lot deeper," Ben said.

"We have movement behind us," Corrie said. "Scouts who dropped back report a large concentration of troops moving slowly. Maintaining distance. Their vehicles are old, and of various makes, but chugging right along. Scouts have counted fifty trucks, most of them deuce-and-a-halves. All filled to overflowing with troops."

"Say a minimum of seven hundred and fifty troops coming up behind us."

Ben smiled. "Tell my XO to take over, Corrie. And alert my company we will be falling back to engage the enemy . . . sort of."

Corrie hesitated.

Ben chuckled. "Load us up with rocket launchers and claymores and several Big Thumpers. Cooper, there is a small town just up ahead the Scouts have checked out and found deserted. That will be perfect for an ambush. You pull off there. Get on with the orders, Corrie.""Ten-four, boss."

180.

William W. Johnstone Corrie ordered the column on, with no break-off other than Ben's company. She was asked if she wanted several of the tanks with the column to join Ben in the ambush.

"No," Ben said. "We'll handle this. The rest of the column has their orders. Carry them out."

Cooper cut off the road and parked the wagon behind what remained of a building. The other vehicles peeled off and ducked in behind buildings or crashed through the brush and vegetation around the town and disappeared.

"Some of those trucks will have to be winched out when this is over,"

Ben said, una.s.sing himself from the front seat of the wagon. "And we'll probably lose half a day or more doing that. But what the h.e.l.l? n.o.body here has any pressing engagements elsewhere, do they?"

The team laughed at Ben's sometime odd sense of humor and began unloading weapons from the supply truck that always followed Ben's vehicle. Anna took her Big Thumper, Cooper his SAW. Corrie, Beth, and Jersey swapped their CARs for regulation M-16's with bloop tubes. Ben pulled out his old M-14 and a rucksack filled with magazines. Then they quickly followed Ben into the deserted old remains of what had once been a store and took up positions. A rusted old soft-drink sign was still attached to the front of the building, above the front awning. It creaked on rusted braces in the warm light wind.

The monsoonal rains had not yet begun their daily pounding of the earth and only a very soft drizzle was falling.

Within a very few minutes, the Rebels had all taken up positions in and north and south of the town. The vehicles were hidden and the brush and other vegeta- 181.

181.

tion that had been smashed or driven down by the heavy trucks pulled back and secured in place.

The village appeared to be deserted, just another civilian casualty of war.

It was a death trap for the unsuspecting.

"Enemy column's ETA twenty-five minutes," Corrie said.

Ben nodded his head and rolled a smoke. "Tell the people to grab a quick smoke if they want to. p.i.s.s now if they have to. Smokes out in five minutes and everybody in position."

Ben rolled a cigarette, lit up, and asked, "Corrie, Scouts are certain the enemy convoy has no recon working forward?""Positive, boss. They're rolling along pretty sure of themselves."

"Somebody f.u.c.ked up," Ben muttered. "They didn't do their homework; didn't study the tactics of their opposition. Bad mistake."

"They won't make another one," Jersey said, chomping on a wad of gum.

"Very true, Jersey," Ben said, after blowing a smoke ring and watching it disappear in the wind that silently sang through the gla.s.s-smashed windows. "If we're careful and don't spring the trap too soon. Corrie, tell the troops north of the town to be sure and knock out the first several vehicles. The commander of this force will almost certainly be in one of those vehicles. And we don't want to give them a chance to radio what's happening. Lots of 'if s' involved here."

"Enemy convoy has increased speed," Corrie said. "Fifteen minutes."

"They're getting anxious," Ben replied. "Bad move on their part. Shows another sign of lack of professionalism. They're going to roll right into this."

"They won't roll out of it," Anna said grimly.

182.

William W. Johnstone Ben looked at his adopted daughter. Anna was as cold as ice, as usual.

Ben cut his eyes to Beth, looking at him. She shrugged her shoulders and smiled knowingly. Anna was a warrior, pure and simple, through and through, but one who would always pick the right side, Ben was sure of that. Her years of struggle to survive as a child against the evil of the forces of the nearly overwhelming numbers of warlords and gangs back in her home country had seen to that.

Anna had laid out a long belt of 40mm grenades, filled with anti-personnel grenades. She sat back and waited.

Ben checked his old M-14, known affectionately as a Thunder Lizard, and slipped the fire selector to full auto. It was a punishing weapon to hold and fire at full auto, but it laid down a devastating field of fire.

Cooper had his SAW bi-podded, an extra canister of ammo nearby.

Ben's team was ready.

"Ten minutes," Corrie said.

Ben took his position by the window-or what was left of it-nearest the south wall. He stayed well back from the window, in the shadows, and would remain there until the ambush was sprung.

All around the battle-scarred little town, the Rebels waited, silent and motionless.

"Five minutes," Corrie said softly.

The rain continued to fall, but it had been reduced to only a drizzle.Finally the Rebels could hear the truck engines as the enemy convoy approached the town.

"Showtime," Cooper said, pulling back the bolt on his SAW, chambering a round.

The Rebels in town would let the first fifteen or so trucks in the convoy roll on through. The Rebels in 183.

183.

position on the north side of town would start the ambush. At the first yammer from machine guns, the first crump of grenades, the first whoosh from a rocket launcher, the entire stretched-out company would open up on the unsuspecting convoy. And the quiet, gray-sky, drizzly day would turn into a death trap.

"Play with the big boys," Ben muttered, his eyes following the first truck as it pa.s.sed through the town, "and you're very likely to get your nose bloodied."

Jersey was the only one of the team to have heard the quiet words, she cut her dark eyes to Ben and smiled.

Ben winked at her.

Then the enemy convoy stopped before the first truck could clear the northern edge of the small town.

"c.r.a.p," Ben muttered. "Now what?"

"What is the matter?" a white man yelled, jumping from the fifth truck in the packed-up-close column.

"The engine is overheating!" came the shout from the lead truck.

"I don't give a d.a.m.n if it blows up," the white officer yelled. "We're too close now to stop. If the engine fails, we'll leave the truck and spread the men out among the other vehicles. Now get that G.o.dd.a.m.n thing moving."

"All right, all right! Keep your f.u.c.king pants on, will you?" came the insolent reply.

"The officers certainly have a great deal of respect for each other, don't they?" Jersey whispered.

Ben smiled his reply.

"Now what's wrong?" the first white officer yelled after a few seconds.

The enemy column had not moved. The waiting Rebels could hear the sound of a grinding starter.

"The truck won't start. I told you the engine was overheating. Now it's locked up, I believe."

184William W. Johnstone "It isn't locked up, you idiot. Oh, never mind. We can't wait. Push ..."

The sound of an engine bursting into life cut off his words as the lead truck's motor roared.

"Finally. Roll it, roll it!"

The truck's engine died. The sound of it was so clear it was heard up and down the street.

"Oh, good G.o.d!" the officer yelled impatiently.

The starter began grinding.

"h.e.l.l with it," the officer shouted. "Everybody out and the second truck push that vehicle out of the way. We're wasting too much time. Move it, G.o.dd.a.m.nit, move it!"

"Colonel!" another voice entered the conversation. "Colonel!"

"What is it?" the now identified commander shouted.

"Something is very wrong here."

The colonel paused for a heartbeat, looking slowly all around him. He shook his head and yelled. "What are you talking about?"

"There are tire tracks leading left and right off the street. They disappear into the brush and jungle."

"Tire tracks?"

"Yes, sir. From heavy trucks. Colonel, they're all up and down the street. Just look, see for yourself."