Ashes - Ambush In The Ashes Part 28

Ike confirmed that they had lost at least six battalion commanders and at least five thousand troops-that number would probably go much higher.

One of the Rebels who had joined Ben just before dark shook his head at Ike's a.s.sessment and said, "Try about fifteen thousand dead-at least."

Ben looked at the Rebel for a couple of heartbeats. "Go on," he prompted.

"I talked with a guy from 16 Batt who had talked with one of the survivors from 14 Batt. 14 Batt got hit hard. They lost probably two thirds of their people. A couple more people from 14 Batt confirmed that."

Ben pa.s.sed that word along to Ike.

"13 Batt got creamed, too, General," another Rebel said. "My cousin's with 13 Batt . . . communications. And that was my job with 15 Batt. My cousin stayed on the radio until they were overrun. His last words to me was, 'G.o.d help us all. They've wiped us out.' "

Ben pa.s.sed along that information to Ike, and then signed off. He sat for a few seconds in silence, then asked, "What about the artillery with the battalions? Did the enemy haul it off?"

All the Rebels gathered around smiled at that. One said, "Yes, sir, they did . . . some of it. But most of it's gonna be worthless to them. When we saw it was nearly over for us, and we were going to be overwhelmed, we either b.o.o.by trapped the barrels to blow or destroyed the breech.

They got a lot of vehicles and weapons, but d.a.m.n litde else."

SOP for the Rebels.

"Not many officers got away, right?""No, sir. Practically none of them. A few got captured. Most died fighting."

"All right. Sergeant Major, post the guards and set up a relief schedule. The rest of you get some sleep.

242.

We'll be moving out as soon as those few survivors from the south join us tomorrow."

"Where will we be heading, General?" a Rebel asked.

"I don't know," Ben replied honestly. "Not yet. But we're not whipped.

If any of you are thinking that, put it out of your minds. We're going to regroup and come back meaner than ever. It'll take us a while to get re-supplied and get used to the new reorganization. A couple of months probably. Ike's got every available ship loading around the clock and heading this way. We just had a setback, that's all. Now get some sleep."

After the camp had settled down for the night, Ben sat off by himself, drinking coffee and thinking. Out of nineteen Rebel battalions, he had lost seven or eight. But he wasn't sure how many troops had been killed.

It would take several weeks for the final numbers to be tallied.

Bruno Bottger had won the first round, but the fight was a long way from being over. The Rebels surely suffered a b.l.o.o.d.y nose and a black eye and some bruises. But Bottger had not destroyed the Rebel spirit. If anything, in the long run he had probably strengthened it. For Ben knew his Rebels. And sadness over their losses would soon be replaced by a cold vengeful anger. The Rebels wouldn't come in as great numbers as before, but they would come back with revenge on their minds.

And when the two armies finally did meet head to head on the battlefield, Ben had a couple of little surprises in store for Bruno Bottger.

But that was in the future. There was a lot of work to be done before that happened.

Ben crawled into his blankets and went to sleep. Tomorrow he would start rebuilding his army.

243.

"That's everybody who would answer our calls and a hundred more who just straggled up or down the road and found us," the sergeant major told Ben at mid-morning. "I'm sure there are more Rebels out in the bush, but they don't know we're here."

"All right. Once we get reformed and spread out again, they'll find us.

Get the column lined out. We're heading for Niamey. We'll get the airport cleaned up and ready to receive traffic. We have to start somewhere. Might as well be there."

There weren't nearly enough vehicles to comfortably carry all the troops, but the Rebels managed without complaint, packed in the beds and hanging onto the sides and riding on the fenders and running boards.

Many had to be left behind. But as the convoy made its way slowly toward Niamey, they came upon Rebel vehicles that had suffered only slightdamage. Ben left crews working on those vehicles after making certain the trucks had enough fuel to make the trip back to pick up those left behind and then on to Niamey.

Paul Harrison's last report was that Niamey was in ruins, and he sure had pegged that right. Part of the city was still burning. Bruno Bottger had adopted a scorched-earth policy. Ben and his troops arrived at the airport at midafternoon-in the middle of a downpour-and immediately began clearing runways. Some of the trucks turned around and headed back, to pick up those that could not make the first run to the city.

Ben did not attempt any communication with Ike. They had agreed that if Ben came under attack on the way, he was to get on the radio. If Ike didn't hear from him, Ben had made it and help would be on the way by noon of the next day. Either landing or circling. So the Rebels didn't have time to waste.

Wrecked vehicles were shoved off the runways by deuce-and-a-halves while other Rebels formed lines and 244.

walked the lengths of concrete, picking up debris. The electricity had not worked in the city for years, so there were no runway lights. But the transport planes would be bringing in portable generators with the first flights. At dark the Rebels stopped working and ate some supper.

To a person they were not in the best physical shape; many of them were near exhaustion. But the runways had been cleared and the planes could land.

They began landing at noon the next day. The first half-a-dozen planes contained troops, and Ike was the first one off. He ran over to Ben and the two men grabbed each other in a bear hug.

Ike finally pulled back and wiped his eyes. "Tell your people to stand guard, Ben. They must be worn out. My people will off-load the planes.

fou got any coffee?"

Ben laughed. "No. We used the last of it this morning."

"I can fix that in a hurry."

The next two planes brought in cooks, doctors, and supplies. They were followed by more huge cargo planes, packed with supplies and weapons.

A pot of coffee made for Ben and Ike, and huge vats of coffee made for the troops, handed out with sandwiches that had been quickly made by the cooks within minutes of landing, Ben looked at Ike.

"All right, Ike. Give it to me straight, and don't pull any punches."

"Greenwalt, Gomez, Peters, Post, Harrison, and Stafford, all dead.

Taylor and Malone badly hurt and on their way back to the States." Ike stuck a stub of a cigar into his mouth and chewed it for a moment. "We lost between fifteen and twenty thousand Rebels, Ben. It will be weeks before the final numbers are crunched. 11, 12, and 13 Batts were almost totally wiped out. The other battalions that were hit suffered at least fifty percent losses . . . some higher."

245245.

"How many officers and senior sergeants made it out?"

"Only a handful of each."

"Well, we're looking at a complete reorganization. How about Bruno and his people-where are they?"

"They pulled out, heading south. Ben, we must have killed a hundred thousand of Bottger's people. I'm serious. We destroyed the equivalent of five full divisions. I don't have to tell you how Rebels fight."

"We didn't hurt him, Ike. He used African troops for cannon fodder. I doubt if he lost a hundred and fifty of his own people. And we've still got the gangs of punks between us and Bottger."

"And what's left of his African army."

"Yes. What does Cecil have to say?"

"He's speeding up the training at our bases. It's about all he can do.

He let out a whoop when I told him you were still alive and on the warpath."

"My team and Dr. Chase?"

Ike shook his head. "We've got them MIA, Ben."

"Well, if any team can make it, my team can. And that old crotchety b.a.s.t.a.r.d, Lamar Chase, is hard to kill. I'll say no more about it." Ben shook himself like a big s.h.a.ggy dog. "Ike, get on the horn and advise all Batt Corns to hold what they've got. No further advance. I want teams of Scouts out right now, penetrate as deep as they think is safe, burrow in, and keep their eyes wide open. I want Indian talkers with the Scouts and the same with communications at all times. That ought to thoroughly confuse those n.a.z.i sons of b.i.t.c.hes."

Ben took a bite of sandwich. "I figure we'll stand down for two to three months, Ike. It'll take that long for fresh supplies to reach us and for the troops to get used to the new reorganization. And that will put us just about out of the rainy season." Ben looked at his 246.

long-time friend. "We're going to brigades, Ike. Ten of them. It's past time for it."

"I agree, Ben."

Ben forced a smile. "It's my army, I can designate a brigade to be any strength I d.a.m.n well please."

Ike laughed and clasped his friend on the shoulder. "I'll get right on it, Ben."

After Ike had left, Ben sat for a long time, staring out the broken window.

His thoughts would have caused Satan to cringe.

247Ben was up long before dawn, as was his usual custom. He dressed and walked down to the mess tent, pulling a mug of coffee from one of the huge urns. These cooks were new to Ben, and he to them, and they were just a bit in awe of him. He ignored the quick and curious stares (one does not stare directly or for very long at the commanding general of the Army) and took his coffee to one of the folding tables that had been set up, choosing one in a far corner of the big tent.

Ike came in a few minutes later and filled a tray to overflowing with food and sat down across the table from Ben.

Ben smiled at the food piled on the serving tray. "Not too hungry this morning, hey, Ike?"

"I am kinda off my feed, Ben," Ike replied in all seriousness. "The strain, I guess."

Ben shook his head at the amount of food the ex-SEAL could consume and sipped his coffee. "I'm sure that's it, Ike."

"Have you settled on brigade designations yet, Ben?"

"Yes. To keep the confusion down to a minimum we'll start with 501 and run through 601. Unless you've got a better way and I'm sure open for suggestion."

Ike shook his head. "Sounds good to me. You checked with communications this morning?"

248.

"No. You?"

"No. I'm the 502nd Brigade?"

"Yes."

"Were you advised about the refugees lining up outside the airport during the night?"

Ben looked up from his rolling of a cigarette. "No. How many?"

"Only a few at first. It's up to about a thousand now. But they're very subdued and not causing any trouble. They're a, well, really pitiful bunch."

"I can imagine. We'll do what we can for them. That's part of the reason we're here."

"We'll have planes coming in every twenty minutes starting at first light." Ike suddenly pushed his tray from him. "Aw, s.h.i.t, I'm not hungry. I haven't been able to eat since the attacks. I fill up my tray, take two bites, and lose my appet.i.te."

"The attacks weren't your fault, Ike."

"I keep tellin' myself that, Ben. But I just can't convince myself of it."

"We'd all better be glad Bruno didn't push the offensive. I still can't understand why he didn't. He d.a.m.n sure had it all going his way.""Maybe he was afraid of getting flanked from the east, Ben."

"I don't think so, Ike. If you have swung around, using 2 through 10 Batts, Bruno could have poured more troops in behind you and had you all in a box. The rest of the battalions sure couldn't have done you any good. He probably didn't count on taking us by as much surprise as he did and just didn't have an adequate number of troops in position.

That's my guess. But who knows why that crazy son of a b.i.t.c.h does anything?"

Rebels were beginning to arrive at the tent, picking up trays and forming a line. Both Ben and Ike left the table to give the troops more room and walked outside. A runner from communications walked up.

249.

"About three hundred or so Rebels have been located," she said. "Thirty or so from each of the battalions that got hit. They're spread out over a five/six hundred mile stretch. Teams have gone in now to lead them out and trucks are ready to roll at their signal."

"Thank you," Ike said. The runner backed off and entered the mess tent.

"They'll be more showing up, Ben."

"But only a few more," Ben said softly.

"You can't know that for certain, Ben."

"You're an eternal optimist, Ike. But I hope you're right."

"I'll get things rolling, Ben."

"See you later, Ike."

Ben got him another mug of coffee from the mess tent and returned to his temporary CP. He sat down behind a folding table and turned on the lamp, the electricity provided by huge generators that hummed all around the airport. He began mapping out the new brigade designations and all the other many details that went along with that. The Rebel army did not have to call and wait for artillery support, or combat engineer help . .

. each battalion, and now brigade, carried all that with them. The same with armor.

Ben noticed the shadow entering the room, but paid it no mind. The security that Ike had put around him was so tight a flea could not get through it.

"Hi, General Ben," the familiar voice said. "Good to see you?"