Ashes - D Day In The Ashes Part 27

"Yes. She asked to see a doctor and was instead shown to some sort of para-medical person."

"That's common practice here. We have aid-stations all over the SUSA, staffed by EMTs and trained medics. They handled minor medical problems: st.i.tching up cuts, tending to non-life-threatening wounds. That keeps emergency rooms clear for real emergencies."

"Some people might wish to see a physician instead."

"That's up to the medic at the aid-station. They won't tackle anything they're not qualified to handle. But many of them are so close to being doctors, I've seen doctors defer to them. Most of them have had years of treating combat wounds. There is very little they can't handle."

"So if someone had a burst appendix, they could operate?" a man asked.

"They could . . . and have. But unless they felt the patient would die before they could get to a hospital, they wouldn't. It's a judgment call for them."

"I'm not sure I would like to live in such a society, Mr. President,"

the man replied.

"It's strictly up to you, sir," Cecil said with a smile. "But before you make any decisions, why not visit those aid-stations and talk to our doctors about them?"

"Good idea. I shall."

"I don't understand the laws in this society, Presi-317 317.

dent Jefferys," another man spoke up. "People who have moved in here boast that this is basically a com-monsense form of government. I'm baffled as to just what that means ..." He shook his head.

Cecil started to speak, and the businessman held up a hand. "Please, sir. Allow me to elaborate."

"Go right ahead."

"I've subscribed to several of your newspapers for some months now, not trying to understand what is so special about this place but trying to understand it, period. I haven't seen a police officer since we arrived here several days ago. I see an occasional army Jeep or HumVee, with uniformed soldiers, but no police. Do you have police?"

"Yes. But not the kind you are accustomed to seeing. Mr., ah . . ."

Cecil consulted a paper. "Mr., ah, Mac-Kensie. We just don't need a ma.s.sive showing of police in the SUSA. People who don't obey the law here don't last long. We either escort them to the nearest border and tell them not to come back, lock them up and throw away the key, or somebody shoots them. We've brought it all back to the basics here. My oldest and dearest friend, Ben Raines, used to put it this way: 'A smart person rakes his leaves, bags them, and takes them to the nearest landfill for disposal. A very stupid person, and the kind we don't tolerate here, rakes them, sets them on fire, and lets the smoke drift into his neighbor's window.' Cecil smiled. "Now, Mr. Mac-Kensie, if you don't understand all the meaning behind those words-"

Again, MacKensie held up his hand. "Oh, I do, Mr. President. Are you telling me that should that occur, 318.

someone might pick up a gun and shoot the offending neighbor?"

"Oh, not the first time it happens," Cecil replied with a straight face.

"We give everybody one mistake."

"What?" MacKensie blurted.

The woman seated to MacKensie's left smiled and then burst out laughing.

MacKensie turned to her, irritation on his face. "Linda, I fail to see the humor in any of this."

"Robert," she said. "He's having fun with you. Can't you see that? I suspect the people who request to live in the SUSA are very conservative, law-abiding, and considerate. And they are fully aware of the unwritten laws in this nation. Isn't that correct, Mr. President?"

"Absolutely, Ms. Lambard."

"I'm still confused," MacKensie said.

Cecil said, "Mr. MacKensie, back before the Great War, I read of an account in New York City where a cop shot a thief and the thief sued andwon something like three or four million dollars. Do you remember that incident, or one similar ... of which there were many?"

"Yes, I do. So?"

"That has about as much chance of happening here as the possibility of my being able to flap my arms and soar with eagles. This is a law-and-order society. We teach it in schools. Public schools. There are no private schools in the SUSA. None, and there never will be any. There are no church-run elementary, middle, or high schools in the SUSA. None, and there never will be any. Every student receives the same type of educa- 319.

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tion here. The finest in the world. We do have schools for exceptional children, on both ends of the spectrum. There is no such thing as social promotion. And there never will be. Our vo-tech schools are the finest in the world and so are our inst.i.tutions of higher education. There are no c.r.a.p courses. No easy courses. There are no sorority or frat houses, no basketball, football, or baseball teams. And as long as Ben Raines is alive, there never will be. Learning comes first. There is no such thing as a party school in the SUSA or in any of the states aligned with us.

And there never will be. That is not to say the kids don't have fun, because they do. They have their beer busts and spring breaks and so forth. I even heard there was a panty raid at one not too long ago. When I mentioned it to Ben, he smiled and said, 'Things are getting back to normal, aren't they?'

"Teachers teach here, Mr. MacKensie. They demand respect from their students and they get it. They don't show up in blue jeans, and they aren't buddy-buddy with their students. They teach. There has been only one incident of a student a.s.saulting a teacher in high school. The princ.i.p.al was walking by when it happened. He physically stomped the c.r.a.p out of the kid, then put one foot on the kid's neck, held the kid down on the floor, took off his belt, and wore the kid's a.s.s out with it. Then he dragged the student down the hall to the office, called the kid's parents, and told him to come get the kid and keep him until he could behave in a civilized manner. That young man is now a senior at Pal Elliot University and on the honor role. He plans to be a doctor.

All he needed was a slight att.i.tude 320.

adjustment. Are you beginning to understand how we work here, Mr.

MacKensie?"

"Did the young man's parents sue?" MacKensie asked.

Cecil burst out laughing. "Are you kidding? You're not kidding. h.e.l.l no, they didn't sue. Even if they could find a lawyer to take the case-and in the SUSA that would have been extremely difficult, if not impossible-it would have been tossed out of court."

MacKensie was obviously shocked. Iinda Lambard was amused at the recalling of the incident, as were the others seated in a half circle around Cecil's desk. With the exception of MacKensie, these were men and women who believed strongly in a law-and-order, capitalistic society-the only type of government that history proves actually worked."Your form of government is rather harsh, President Jefferys," MacKensie remarked.

"Works for us," Cecil replied.

"It is based on violence and total disregard for human rights,"

MacKensie countered.

"It's based on common sense, respect for the rights of others, and discipline," Cecil said with a smile.

MacKensie stood up. "I don't think I like your society, President Jefferys. My company will not be relocating here."

"Your option, sir."

When MacKensie had left, Cecil looked at the others. "And the rest of you?"

They were all relocating to the SUSA.

Cecil smiled. "Seven out of eight ain't too shabby," he said.

321.

321.

"Why is he waiting?" Bruno Bottger muttered the question as he stared at the wall map of Europe. Bruno did not expect a reply from any of the others in the room, and none was offered.

The harsh winter had broken, and a glorious spring had blossomed several weeks earlier than usual. The roads, for the most part, were clear and the valleys open. Bottger had repositioned his troops and all was ready.

Still, Ben Raines did nothing.

Nothing was a word only in Bottger's mind, for Ben was doing plenty.

Ships were arriving daily from the States with supplies for the next campaign. Fuel was being trucked to various jump-off points. Tankers were being made ready for the long pull into central Europe . . . and beyond. Special ops teams were training in preparation for the a.s.sault.

Operations were being planned and carefully gone over and revised and honed to a razor's sharpness.

And Ben also had to separate, widely, Rene Seaux, commander of the Free French and General Matthies of the German Resistance. The two men did not get along at all. Especially after General Matthies said, "G.o.dd.a.m.n French. You f.u.c.k with your faces and fight with your feet! You always have."

It took a half dozen men to break up the fist fight before the two inflicted serious injury upon each other. Ben then a.s.signed Rene far to the north and General Matthies far to the south. General Matthies had a slightly higher opinion of the Italian Resistance . .. but only slightly.

322.

Several times Ben put his people on high alert, knowing that Bottger had eyes watching him, as he had eyes watching Bottger. Each time he didthat, Bottger was forced to throw his people on full alert, creating a lot of nervousness and unneeded tension among his people.

"The son of a b.i.t.c.h!" Bottger cursed Ben, after each alert proved to be false.

Bottger was learning, albeit slowly, about Ben Raines and his tactics.

Ben had moved his 1 Batt up and Dan's 3 Batt back to Geneva and shifted Ike and his 2 Batt down to the south of France. Everyone else remained in place. The Rebels knew it was time. They waited.

"We go in tomorrow morning," Ben told Corrie.

323 The a.s.sault was nothing fancy and nothing tricky. The campaign began with a straight-ahead push, and it caught Bottger by surprise, for he was not expecting anything so simple as that-not from Ben Raines.

This time Bottger did toss a bit of a temper tantrum. He stomped around his luxuriously appointed office and kicked wastebaskets and cussed and shouted at the walls. He had only the walls to curse, for everyone else had beat a hasty exit seconds after Bottger received the news of the a.s.sault.

Rage vented, Bottger shouted into the intercom, "Staff, in here! And don't disturb us for any reason! Any reason!"

The huge room slowly filled with staff members and field generals.

"Nothing from the north, south, or east?" Bottger demanded, hands on his hips, eyes burning as they glared at his people.

"No, sir," a ranking general said. "It was a straight-ahead a.s.sault. And it was very successful. Enemy 324.

William W. Johmtone troops are now inside Germany, Switzerland, and Italy."

But just barely. All along the battlefront, after the front-line troops of Bottger had recovered from their shock, they threw up defensive positions and held.

"The Free French came across the border and took Norden, Emden, and Leer," Bottger was informed.

Bruno blew his top again. "Are you telling me that a bunch of p.u.s.s.y-faced French Frogs overran my troops and routed them?" he screamed.

"Yes, sir."

"That's impossible!" Bruno shouted. "The French can't fight. Everybody knows the French can't fight. There must be some sort of mistake in decoding the communique."

The room fell silent as all could faintly detect a low roaring sound.

"What the h.e.l.l is that?" Bruno asked, after listening for a few seconds."Probably a minor malfunction in the heating system, sir," a junior officer said.

It was about to get plenty hot, for a fact. But it had nothing to do with the old castle's up-to-date central heating system.

"Sounds like . . . planes," a colonel observed, involuntarily looking upward. "Prop planes. But the pitch is ... well, stronger, somehow."

"Planes?" Bruno said. "Planes? Here? We are almost five hundred kilometers from the nearest border fighting. Don't be absurd!"

Before Bruno's words were through echoing around the marble-floored room, .50-caliber wing guns and 325.

325.

cannon opened up from the lead planes of the three squadrons of P-5 lE's that had dared to cross nearly the whole of Germany, flying at treetop level, just to show Herr Field Marshal General Supreme Commander of the MEF Bruno Bottger that no matter where he might reside, he was not out of the reach of General Ben Raines and the Rebels.

Bruno hit the hard marble floor as slugs raked the room, whining off the marble and in general raising h.e.l.l among the expensive vases and paintings around the room. One slug ruined the huge portrait of Adolph Hitler, st.i.tching der fiihrer from groin to nose. The heavy frame came loose from its mount and conked a general on the noggin, knocking him unconscious.

Bruno unceremoniously crawled under a desk just as a nearly spent slug slammed into his left b.u.t.tock. It had enough force left to bring a wail of protest.

"Are you hurt, sir?" an aide yelled.

"Yes, G.o.dd.a.m.nit! I've been shot!"

"Where, sir?"

"In the a.s.s, you idiot!"

Then there was no more time for words as the modified P-51E's banked and came around for a second pa.s.s, wing guns yammering and booming. The bombs they dropped on their first pa.s.s had exploded cars and trucks and set outbuildings on fire, and the smoke was thick and blinding to those on the ground. Bruno's people had surface-to-air missiles, but the planes were flying so low the missiles were useless against them.

One of the pilots was about a hundred feet off the ground and flying at over five hundred miles an hour. He grinned at an MEF officer as he roared past. The 326.

William W. Johnstoneofficer stood and gaped at the plane. A huge fist with a good oP American middle finger was painted on the side of the plane. The officer stared in disbelief at the clearly visible rigid digit. By the time the officer recovered from his shock, the plane was out of sight, heading southwest to Switzerland.

Portions of the old castle has taken several direct bomb hits and were on fire. Limping badly, one hand holding the bruised left side of his a.s.s, Bruno managed to clear the castle and give his men a chance to start pouring water on the flames.

"Get me a cushion!" Bruno bellowed.

Hilda Koller, Bruno's love at the moment, who was a 100 percent s.a.d.i.s.t and a closet d.y.k.e, came rushing out of her quarters of the castle, dressed in black leather and carrying her favorite whips and chains. She was cussing a blue streak.

"Mein Gott!" she hollered. "Vas is happening?"

Bruno gave her a very dirty look and tried not to grimace at the pain in his a.s.s-literally and figuratively.