Ashes - Battle In The Ashes Part 10

"Now!" Buddy shouted.

The Rebels slammed into the eastern side of Highway 36 with the savagery of hungry piranhas.

The commander of the Blackshirts on the eastern edge of Hoffman's northern push got off one short radio message. Hoffman's face drained of blood and his stomach churned as he read the message, G.o.d help us all.

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Chapter Eleven.The Rebels were all over the Blackshirts before they could reposition from west to east. This was b.l.o.o.d.y and brutal hand to hand fighting, something the Rebels had perfected over the long years of war. This was pistol and knife and hatchet and club warfare. Back to the raw basics.The Blackshirts had never, ever, encountered such savagery. The Rebels did not come screaming over the top-they came like deadly silent wraiths and it was that very silence that panicked and broke the enemy line.

The disciplined soldiers of Hoffman's army looked at outlaw bikers, bearded and leathered and tattooed, swinging deadly barbed lengths of chain; their female counterparts armed with silenced machine-pistols, spitting out quiet death.

The soldiers of Hoffman broke and fled for their lives, running toward the west. Those that chose to stay and fight died. The Rebels took no prisoners.

The Rebels smashed through the thin lines and split up, working north and south along the rutted old highway. They captured hundreds of a.s.sault rifles, fine 128.

weapons, and thousands of rounds of ammunition. They captured machine guns and light vehicles and mortars and cases and cases of mortar rounds. They captured hundreds of boxes of field rations, which to the Rebels, after years of eating their own highly nutritious but c.r.a.ppy-tasting goop, were like gourmet meals.

The Blackshirts even abandoned half a dozen of their big battle tanks-the crews running off into the night. The Rebels promptly cranked them up and drove off, along with the trucks and other light vehicles, after loading them with guns, ammo, food, mortars, boots, and anything else the Rebels felt they could use.

The Rebels did not come out of the battle unscathed. They had their dead to carry off and bury and their wounded to transport to Chase's MASH units. But the Blackshirts suffered terrible losses. All who did not run off were killed and many of those who tried to flee were gunned down.

It was wasn't a matter of being callous. It was merely a question of chopping down the enemy to a more manageable size. Every Blackshirt killed now was one less the Rebels would have to someday fight.

By the time troops from Hoffman's Eighth Division got over to the battle site, there was nothing left but the silence of the dead.

General Ramos Schleyer, CG of the Eighth Division, stood in the center of the carnage and was stunned speechless. The dead were sprawled everywhere. The Rebels left behind no wounded.

"Barbarians!" Ramos hissed, finally finding his voice. "Filthy savages."

Strange words from a man who took great delight in raping young girls, violating young boys, and killing anyone who did not agree with his political 129.

views. He pointed his riding crop at an aide. "The Rebels will pay dearly for this, Hugo. Dearly, I say. Mark my words."

"Field Marshal Hoffman, sir," a radioman handed the general the field phone.

"No, sir," Ramos said, in reply to Hoffman's very direct question. "Theywere wiped out to the last man. The filthy barbarous b.a.s.t.a.r.ds left no wounded behind." He listened for a moment. "No, sir. The Rebels took all the equipment. Guns, vehicles, boots, food, mortars, tanks, gasoline ...

everything." Again, he listened. "Yes, sir. I will see that our people are properly buried. I have chaplains coming in now to insure proper burials."

After Hoffman had broken the connection, Ramos said, "Get me General Krosen at the Second Division. We have to make plans to rid ourselves of Ben Raines. That and nothing else, must be top priority. We have to convince Field Marshal Hoffman of that. We must."

"We are now dirty filthy barbarians," Corrie told Ben, who was sitting behind his desk, his stocking feet propped up.

He smiled and lifted his mug of coffee at her. "I'm glad to hear it.

Obviously, Buddy's report was factual. What officer called us that?"

"The CG of the Eighth Division. General Ramos Schleyer. He is furious and saying that he will have your head on a pole for this atrocity."

"That would be unpleasant," Ben said. "What else?"

"We've decoded some rather odd transmissions and cryptography is trying to make sense out of them now."

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"And they all concern me, right?" Ben asked, a strange smile on his lips.

"Yes," Corrie said. "How did you know?"

"like so many others we've faced, Corrie, the leaders of the Blackshirts believe that if I'm killed, the Rebel movement would collapse. They just can't see that I'm merely a part of it. I'm not the whole. But we're going to have to be careful from now on. For if the generals convince Hoffman of their theory, a.s.sa.s.sins will be coming out of the woodwork after me." His eyes swept the room, lingering for a moment, touching all the members of his team. "And that includes all of you. And don't ever forget that."

"Well, if that's the case, Ike oughta be storming in here at any moment," Jersey predicted. "That ol' mother hen will be wanting to relocate you up way up in North Canada."

Ben smiled. Jersey had pegged the ex-SEAL correctly. Ike was very protective of Ben. As soon as the decoding experts did their work and reported the news to all Rebel commanders, Ike would be rolling in and raising h.e.l.l about Ben's safety.

"The Blackshirt generals are requesting a meeting with Hoffman," Corrie called out. "They want to meet first thing in the morning at Hoffman's First Division HQ,"

"It's started," Ben said. "Fine. That will give us another day to shift troops around and make plans. I ..."

"General Ike on the horn, sir," Corrie said. "He says it's very important."

Ben laughed and walked to the radio. "I bet it is," he said, taking themic as Corrie flipped over to speaker.

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Ike was already yelling. "G.o.dd.a.m.nit, Ben. Pack it up and get gone from there."

If they were not transmitting from a "fixed" base, to improve the range of communications, and to prevent the enemy from getting any accurate fix on locations, in the field the Rebels used a very upgraded version of the suitcase repeater.

"Where would you have me go, Ike?"

"Away from where you are," Ike said simply, calming down.

"That's not a bad idea," Ben said, but not to Ike. "But we'll do it on the Q.T." To Ike: "No, Ike, I think we'll just stay put for a time. But I will take your very fine suggestion under advis.e.m.e.nt."

Ben never said things like "taking your very fine suggestion under advis.e.m.e.nt," and Ben knew Ike would grab the hidden message immediately.

"No way I can convince you, huh?" Ike said, a very subtle change in his voice.

"Not a chance, Ike." Ben knew other Rebel communications people would be monitoring the transmissions and they would put it all together.

To insure that everybody knew what was going on, Ben and Ike began conversing in double-talk, using terms that would lead the Blackshirts-if they could unscramble the transmissions-to believe that Ben was staying in his present location.

When they had spoken enough gobbledygook to tip off even the sleepiest of Rebel communications operators, Ben hooked the mic and said, "Pack it up, people. We're pulling out."

Within minutes, the team had packed their gear and 132.

were heading out. They rolled into Dr. Chase's HQ a few hours later.

"Get your MASH units down and moving," Ben told the chief of medicine.

"To just north of I-20. And don't argue. I think Hoffman will be mounting a major offensive very soon."

"Me, argue?" Chase said innocently.

Ben rolled his eyes. "Move!"

"Most of them can move," Chase said, becoming very serious. "I've got two who can't be moved for seventy-two hours. And that's final."

"All right, Lamar. It's your show."

"You staying here, Ben?"

"Until dawn." Over coffee, he explained what he felt the Blackshirtswere going to try next.

Chase nodded his head. "That's the way it always is, Ben. Back to playing cat and mouse." He refilled their cups and looked hard at Ben.

"The game is just about to turn deadly serious, isn't it?"

"Yeah. We're going to start taking casualties now. Hoffman will make fewer and fewer mistakes counting on the day when he feels we have to stand and slug it out."

"And will that day come, Ben?"

"Oh, yes. It'll come, Lamar. We can't hit and run forever. But that time must not arrive until we've killed off a lot of his troops. This has got to stay a guerrilla-type action. We just don't have the people to stand nose to nose."

Lamar toyed with his coffee mug for a moment. It was very late, past midnight, and the MASH tents set up around the small house Chase was using as his quarters and office were silent. The doctor lifted his eyes, 133.

looking at Ben. "Old friend, are we going to win this one?"

"I don't know," Ben said softly. "The movement itself will never die. I know that. But whether you and I and those close to us will live through this fight ... that's up for grabs."

Lamar sighed. "Well, I'm an old man." He smiled. "With a reasonably young gal and a baby to look after. It won't matter much if I don't make it. You, now, you've got a few more good years ahead of you." And ..."

He paused and frowned. "If you'd quit smoking cigarettes, that is."

"I haven't lit one in your presence so far, have I?" Ben said with a smile.

"No. But you'd like to. Oh, go on and roll one, Raines. You're beginning to fidget like a virgin in a locker room."

"And what, Lamar?"

"What do you mean, Raines?"

"You started to say something then paused and started your usual harangue about my smoking."

"I do not harangue anyone, Raines." He took a sip of coffee. "Ike's right, you know."

"Oh, Lamar, not you, too!"

"Listen to me, Ben. You've got to listen to me. You talk of the movement. Ben, you are the movement. I know all the times we've discussed this. I know all your arguments: Buddy and Tina will take over, blah, blah, blah. And I know that someday they will have to a.s.sume the lion's share of what you now do. But not yet. The time is not now.

You said it yourself, Ben: we are facing the most crucial time since the Great War. Now, more than ever before, we need you."

134It was said with such sincerity, such quiet emotion, Ben sat and stared at the older man for a moment. "What do you want me to do, Lamar?"

"I can't ask you stay out of the field, Ben. That's in your blood. But do so with caution. Don't spearhead. Don't lead wild charges. And don't get careless and let yourself get boxed in somewhere."

Ben slowly nodded his head. "All right, Lamar. I'll rein in my horns. I won't go looking for a fight, but d.a.m.ned if I'll run from one."

"That's good enough for me, Ben. Go get some sleep. We'll talk more at breakfast." He smiled. "Fresh eggs and ham."

"That's an invite I'll accept."

Far to the south, Hoffman sat in the darkness of his trailer. He felt he knew perfectly well what his generals wanted to discuss in a few hours.

The taking of Ben Raines. But Hoffman, even though he was younger than Raines, and did not have near the experience, was nonetheless a very intelligent man. He knew that should he, Hoffman, die, his army would fight on. And so would the Rebels. Perhaps not with the cunning that Raines possessed, but fight on they would. And he felt that Ben Raines knew that, too.

Any of Raines' colonels or generals could step in. He knew. He had studied the dossiers on them all. Dan Gray was a brilliant leader of men, as was Ike McGowen. General Payon was tough and smart. General Georgi Striganov, the Russian Bear, was a tough old soldier with years of experience behind him. The mercenary, West, was as mean as a cornered panther.

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Ben's son, Buddy, was fearless in a fight and showed great potential as a leader.

No, Hoffman concluded, his generals were wrong. Very wrong. But they were right about one thing: they could not continue to allow the Rebels to chip away at them. How to stop the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds and b.i.t.c.hes from doing that had caused Hoffman endless hours of sleeplessness. But there had to be a way. There just had to be a way.

Hoffman ordered every division to hold their positions and not to attempt any advance. Every commander in Hoffman's army doubled and sometimes tripled security on the edges of their perimeters.

Ben ordered his own people to back off and take a wait and see att.i.tude until after the generals met with Hoffman. It would be interesting to see what came out of the high-level meeting.

"Gentlemen," Hoffman kicked off the meeting. "Let's face facts. And the overriding fact is that our eight divisions and Brodermann's short spear-header division are surrounded by a thin line of Rebels. Now I do not perceive that as much of a threat; we could punch through at any time. However, when we do punch through, and we will, Raines will simply order his northern-based troops to fall back, and realign his forces to the east, west, and south. We will conquer nothing, because Raines is destroying everything in his path. We will kill no Rebels, because Raines will not allow any face-to-face fighting, except on his ownterms. And we all know that is savage surprise ambushing."

He paused and looked at his commanders for a moment. "And we have learned some hard lessons 136.

about ourselves and the Rebels during this short campaign. I myself have learned that up until we crossed the border, I was an arrogant fool. I believed that we would just roll over the Rebels and march on to glory.

I said that Texas would be ours in a week. Well, comrades, Texas will be ours, but it certainly will not be ours in a week, and probably not in several months. Unless we are very, very careful, Texas could very easily be our Russian front, our Waterloo, our Dunkirk. If we don't succeed here, we're finished. Think about that for a moment."

Hoffman waited until the sudden babble of voices had fallen back into silence. "Gentleman, Raines is not going to fight us on our own terms.

He simply will not do it. And if we continue fighting him, using the tactics we have thus far practiced, he'll eventually defeat us. Look at the facts. For every Rebel we've killed, they've killed five hundred of our people. At least. We thought, I thought, we could occupy the towns and cities and turn the people against the Rebels. I did not count on Raines evacuating everybody and relocating them north. And north of the thirty-sixth parallel he has Rebels training many of those evacuees, whipping them into an army five or six times our size. That son of a b.i.t.c.h Raines is the most unpredictable G.o.dd.a.m.n b.a.s.t.a.r.d I have ever encountered in my life!"

Hoffman stomped to a window and stared out, struggling to regain his composure. He turned slowly, looking at his men. "Who among us ever dreamt General Raines could very nearly successfully evacuate an entire state? That's impossible! But he did it."

Hoffman paced the room like a caged animal, around and around the neatly aligned chairs.

"Field Marshal," General Timmermann spoke. "Does 137.

not that prove what we here maintain? Kill Ben Raines and the movement dies?"