Ashes - Battle In The Ashes Part 24

269.

"We got to get the wimmen and the chil'ren out of here, Wink!" one of Payne's men said, panic in his voice. "They's thousands and thousands of Rebels gathered over yonder to the west."

"Sit down, Ed," Wink told him. "Calm yourself. There are not thousands and thousands of Rebels. There is one, maybe two battalions of Rebels.

That's it. That's a total of no more than two thousand Rebels. And some of them is women. And we all know the only thing women is good for. So they're probably along to screw the troops, is all. The c.r.a.p we been hearin' about women Rebels bein' tigers in battle is just that, Ed.

c.r.a.p. We got machines guns, mortars, and the bes' automatic a.s.sault rifles anywhere in the world. h.e.l.l, Ed, we been c.o.o.n-killin' Moi's people for years, ain't we? Don't that tell you nothin' 'bout How tough we is, boy?"

"I reckon you be right, Wink," Ed said, sitting down. "But you better talk to the men. Some of them is gettin' spooked about the rumors of thousands of Rebels."

"I'll settle 'em down, Ed. You just leave that to me."

After the calmed down Ed had left, Wink sat in the study of his home and pondered what faced him. Unlike many, if not most, of his followers, Wink Payne was not an ignorant man. It was his radical views that drew the ignorant to him like steel shavings to a magnet. He would have been highly insulted had anyone suggested that he and Moi Sambura were so much alike in their thinking they could pa.s.s for mental twins. But it was true. The main difference between them was their color. Wink hated black people, Moi hated white people.

Both were highly intelligent men, well-read and well-versed, but both were so blind in their individual hatred they could not see that even if they could somehow 270miraculously combine their forces, they would still be unable to defeat the Rebels.

They didn't know this, but Ben Raines did.

The sadness of it all, Ben thought, as he leaned against the fender of his Hummer and stared at what used to be the Alabama-Georgia state line, is that both Wink and Moi are correct to a small degree in their thinking. Back when we had a central government in Washington, D.C. the nation's leaders overreacted in an attempt to try to make up for two hundred years of injustice toward the blacks. Some white toes got stepped on; in many cases, trod on hard.

Ben didn't believe that standards should have been lowered to help the blacks, and neither did any intelligent black that he had ever met ...

once confidence was gained and both sides could speak freely.

Cecil Jefferys had once said, "Toss them all into society with the same standards for everybody, no matter what color. It will be brutal, but the best and the brightest and the mentally toughest will make it."

But that didn't happen until men like Ben Raines and Cecil Jefferys came into power. And Cecil's words were proving to be correct.

Ben had often written to and said to government leaders, back when the government was whole: "This nation cannot be all things to all people, all the time. To attempt to do that is not only physically impossible, but economically unreasonable and grossly unfair to the hard working taxpayers who are being forced, in most cases against their will, to foot the bill."

But the elected officials would not listen to men like 271.

Ben Raines and Cecil Jefferys. The best of friends. A black man and a white man of like mind. Hard men.

"Wink," Ben muttered, as he stared toward the west. "And Moi, too. You'd better get your acts together. And you d.a.m.n well better do it quickly.

'Cause in about five minutes, I'm coming after you."

Ben walked back to where Corrie sat with her radio equipment. "Any word from either of them, Corrie?"

"Not a peep directed at us, sir. But Beth has been listening to Wink's people talk back and forth."

Ben cut his eyes. "What are they saying, Beth?"

"That they're going to kick our a.s.ses."

Jersey slapped a full clip of .223 ammo into the belly of her M-16. "I wonder if anyone over there would like to bet on that?" She stood up and looked at Ben. "Kick-a.s.s time, General?"

Ben nodded. "Kick-a.s.s time, Jersey."

272Chapter Ten In slightly less than fifteen minutes, eight towns that once bordered the Georgia line were reduced to blazing rubble and thick, swirling, choking smoke from the artillery barrage. Wink had finally used some common sense and moved women and children back to the center of his controlled territory, momentarily out of harm's way. But when the barrage ended, not quite half of those men he had a.s.signed to the eastern front lines made it out of the savage barrage of HE, WP, and antipersonnel rounds that rained down on their heads from miles away.

Wink's men had been told the Rebels would be easy to stop. And his ignorant followers had believed that. They had believed that right up until the sh.e.l.ling. They fired their mortars toward the east. But the rounds fell miles short of the Rebel artillery.

Wink ordered his followers to fall back. "Blow the bridges on the Tennessee," he ordered. He thought that might buy him some time. It wouldn't. He thought that would show the Rebels how determined Wink Payne and his followers really were. It didn't. He 273.

thought he would be able to rally his men and stop the Rebel advance. He was wrong.

Ben, at the top of the state near the Tennessee line, simply drove straight down a secondary road, on the east side of the river and Guntersville Lake, blocked off the southern escape route, helped Baker Company put any of Wink's stragglers into a box, and systematically set about mopping up.

"We have one of Payne's senior officers," a scout reported, just as Ben was finishing the evening meal.

It was pleasant in this part of the state, with thick forests, the foliage lush, and flowers at high bloom. The air was softly scented with dozens of fragrances, and the evening was cool for this time of the year.

"Bring him in," Ben said.

The man was scared, and tried not to show it. But Ben and his team could smell it. They'd smelled it many times before. The man looked to be in his mid- to late forties, and was clean-shaven. Ben, knowing the man had been thoroughly searched, waved him to a chair.

"Coffee?" he asked. "Mr. ... ?"

The prisoner looked startled. "Jeb Brown. Yeah, might as well," he said.

"I haven't had real coffee in years." He smiled thinly. "You give me a cup of coffee and then you shoot me, is that it, General?"

Ben smiled and tasted his own just-poured cup. "No one is going to shoot you, Mr. Brown. You're a prisoner. As soon as Wink is put out of business, you can go back to farming, or whatever it is you do. As for the coffee, our friends from South America just sent us tons of fresh beans. And we, ah, liberated more tonnage from General Jesus Hoffman and his Blackshirt army."The man took the cup of fresh coffee, sniffed it several 274.

times and smiled. "That does smell good. Thank you, General."

"Por nada," Ben said, his eyes hooded.

"I don't speak no greaser language."

"They are not 'greasers,' Mr. Brown. They are Mexicans, South Americans, Latinos. They might be Peruvian, Chilean, or whatever. But they are not greasers."

"They ain't as good as no white man." Brown took a gulp of coffee, holding the mug as if fearful it might be s.n.a.t.c.hed away from him at any moment.

"You are right about that, Mr. Brown. They are much better than you and your cohorts."

"Well, it figures you'd say that. You bein' a n.i.g.g.e.r-lover an' all."

"Wrong again, Mr. Brown. I don't judge people by the color of their skin, but by their actions and deeds and how they treat other people.

There are a great many black people I cannot abide. Just as there are people of all colors I personally have no use for. Including whites."

"Like Wink Payne."

"He's one."

"Moi Sambura?"

"He's another."

"Can I have another cup of coffee?"

"Sure."

Jeb gulped at the fresh cup of brew and said, "I'll make a deal with you."

"What kind of deal?"

"Well, I'll tell you everything I know and you turn me a-loose."

"We already know everything you know."

"Huh! The h.e.l.l you say! How would you know that?"

275.

"We infiltrated Wink and Moi's groups years ago, Mr. Brown. We didn't consider either of you important enough to waste much time on back then.

You could wait. We had other, more pressing battles to fight. We know what you have in the way of weapons, and the battle plans of both groups. So you see, Mr. Brown, you have nothing to barter."

"I'll be d.a.m.ned. You ain't got no smokin' tobacco on you, has you?"Ben tossed him the makin's.

Brown rolled and licked and lit. He tossed the bag and paper onto the desk.

"Keep them, Mr. Brown," Ben told him. "I doubt you'll have the bag smoked by the time this little exercise in futility is concluded."

"Huh?"

"It's going to be a very short war."

"Can I speak frank with you, General?"

"Go right ahead."

"Where do you come off roarin' in here and stickin' your nose into our business?"

Ben smiled. "Brown, I could talk for the rest of the night, but I don't know if you would ever understand. We don't care if you don't subscribe to our way of life. We really don't care. But when you start killing innocent people, children in many cases, simply because they wouldn't get off the sidewalk and let you walk by. When you horsewhip and lynch black men and boys for daring to speak to a white woman, and all the other atrocities you people have committed ... well, Mr. Brown, that offends me. I feel obliged to come to you and read to you from the scriptures, so to speak. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

276.

"You don't think Moi Sambura done the same thing to white folks? h.e.l.l's far, man, that n.i.g.g.e.r come in over yonder and run off or kilt hun'erds of good decent white people!"

"We are going to deal with Moi, Mr. Brown. Rest a.s.sured of that."

"You gonna kill him?"

"In all likelihood."

"Good."

"And Wink Payne too."

"But Wink's a lay preacher. He's a good Baptist. He's a religious man.

He can show you right in the Bible where it says plain as day that n.i.g.g.e.rs ain't as good as white folks."

Ben reached into his rucksack and tossed a Bible on the desk. "Show me, Brown."

"Well, now, I can't personal show you. But Wink can."

"And you believe that?"

"Sh.o.r.e." Brown looked at Ben for a few seconds. "You really read the Bible, General?"

Ben thought of the remark attributed to General George Patton when a reporter asked him that same question. "I sure do, Brown. Every G.o.dd.a.m.nday."

Jeb Brown blinked at that.

"Get him out of here and feed him," Ben said. "Then lock him up."

Wink Payne was a good speaker. He could motivate a crowd to do just about anything. But as a soldier, he had a lot to learn. The Rebels were kicking the b.u.t.ts of his people at every report. Wink kept backing up until 277.

he found, much to his surprise, he could back no further. I-65 was the separation line between Wink's little nation and Moi's claimed territory.

"That dirty, no-good, rotten, honky son of a b.i.t.c.h!" Moi cussed Ben.

His aides stood quietly. Moi and his people all wore flowing robes and cute little Muslim caps. They would soon discover the outfits, while quite African, were very impractical as combat uniforms.

"Be sure and get me one of those hats," Ben said, after interrogating one of Moi's scouts. "I want to give it to Cecil."

"And do you have any idea what General Jefferys will tell you to do with that hat?" Jersey asked.

"Oh, yes. With complete verbal instructions on where to shove it. What is Wink's position now?"

"Backed up to the north-south Interstate," Beth said. "With Moi's people taking shots at his men."

Ben chuckled. "Worked out just like I thought it would."

"You G.o.dd.a.m.n stupid African b.a.s.t.a.r.d!" Wink yelled into a microphone.

"What the h.e.l.l are your apes shootin' at my people for? We're all in this together now. Ben Raines is after both our a.s.ses, you idiot!"

"Give me that microphone!" Moi said, grabbing frantically at the mic.

"And will somebody please get that G.o.dd.a.m.n goat out of my office!"