Ashes - D Day In The Ashes Part 32

"How much do you weigh?"

"About 175. Why?"

" 'Cause if both your chutes fail, scoopin' you up 373.

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after you hit the ground is gonna be like pickin' up 175 pounds of Jell-O."

"I'm sorry I asked," Nils muttered.

As soon as the jumpers had left the door, Buddy and his special ops people were going to storm the old castle-and it was old-built in 1191.

At precisely 0600 hours, every fighter plane Ben had was to begin bombing and strafing Bottger's western lines; about two full divisions of troops, strategically placed on a north to south line, running roughly from Biel in Switzerland, down to the Italian border. In addition to the planes, Rebel long-range artillery had been quiedy moved into place, and they would start sh.e.l.ling as soon as the bombing and strafing runs were through.

To avoid detection, the planes carrying Ben and Dan's battalions had to fly north and then cut east, and the planes carrying West's battalion had to fly far south and then cut east and north.

"How are we going to get out once we get the president?" Ca.s.sie shouted to Ben over the rush of wind and the roar of the engines.

He looked at her and hid his smile. "I haven't the vaguest idea." ; "Oh . . . s.h.i.t!" Ca.s.sie said.

Ben did know, of course. His intelligence people had learned that Bottger had no troops located between Bulle and Chamonix, and only a small contingent guarding the tunnel at Col du Grd St. Bernard. Ben planned on grabbing the president and beating a hasty exit southwest to Monthey, then down to Martigny, then through the tunnel to safety. He hoped. But Ben knew that war could change plans abruptly . . . often 374.

for the worst. He was fully prepared for the eventuality that the Rebels just might have to play this one by ear.

A crew member motioned to Ben and held up three fingers. Ben stood up and waddled back to the rear of the plane. The huge door opened ponderously and the plane filled with cold air. Then it was time tostand up and hook up and check equipment. Ben was not acting as jumpmaster this time-he was going to be the first one out. His team was right behind him on the left stick, Ca.s.sie among them. Lieutenant Bonelli was on the other side of the plane, leading his stick out. The green light popped on and Ben was out. The sky blossomed with chutes.

Below, Ben could see flashes from the muzzles of guns. The attack was on. Then several miles to the north and west came a tremendous flash of fire and light. Ben had no idea what had happened, only that a plane had exploded in midair. But he knew it was not one of his. Then another flash of light fired the sky, almost in the same location as the first.

"What the h.e.l.l?" Ben said aloud.

Then there was no more time for wondering about the strange explosions, for the ground was coming up fast. Ben hit, rolled, and came to his boots quickly. As he had during the previous jump, he had left his Thompson and now carried a .223 CAR.

"Buddy reports some strange doings at the castle," Corrie panted in his ear. "There was a firefight going on when he got there. Then when his people stormed the place, the people who were fighting each other both turned on him."

"Let's go find out what's going on," Ben said, ripping open an equipment pack. "This is looking more 375.

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and more like a total screwup. Anybody hurt landing?"

"No, sir. Nothing serious. They're getting Nils Wilson out of a tree now. He's scared but not hurt."

"Lots of headlights coming up the road," Beth called.

"I hope they're being driver^ by Buddy's people and not Bottger's," Ben said grimly, looking at the line of vehicles heading their way. i It was Buddy and his special ops people driving the cars and trucks.

Buddy hopped out of the lead truck and shook hands with his dad.

"The castle and town are ours, Father," he reported. "And President Blanton is safe. Bottger and his staff left earlier for Berlin, and the castle was only lightly manned. But some of Bottgerls men were dressed in uniforms similar to ours, and both sides had blanks in their weapons.

Taking the castle was a piece of cake."

Ben was stunned at the report. He could not make any sense out of Buddy's news. He shook his head and said, "Where's Blanton?"

"In the middle of the column. What were those flashes in the sky a few minutes ago?"

"I don't know. How many vehicles did you find?"

"Not nearly enough for three battalions, Father. I've sent people to check out those explosions. Do we occupy the town or head for the border?""Let's hold what we've got until full light and your people come back with some news about those flashes we saw. I've got to try and make some sense out of what happened here tonight."

"Good luck," Buddy said dryly.

"How many prisoners did you take?"

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"Nearly all of them, Father. They didn't have anything to fight with except blanks."

Muttering under his breath, Ben walked over to greet President Blanton.

"I can truthfully say that I am very glad to see you, Ben," Homer said with a smile, shaking hands with Ben.

"Are you all right, Homer?"

"I'm fine. Can you tell me what is going on?"

"I have no idea. But I'll tell you what I'm going to do. Corrie, order all battalions to attack with everything they've got. Tell Ike to start his push through to Martigny and we'll link up with him there."

"Right, sir."

"Does this operation have a name, Ben?" President Blanton asked.

"Yeah," Ben replied. "Operation f.u.c.k-Up!"

Bottger stepped off the plane outside Berlin and was handed a message by a frightened young soldier. The messenger backed up a few feet.

Bottger read the communique concerning the attack on the castle, wadded it up, hurled it to the tarmac, and started jumping up and down on the paper. "G.o.d-d.a.m.nit!" he shouted.

Another messenger came rushing up. "General! The Rebels have launched a full-scale attack all along our lines."

"Lines!" Bruno screamed. "I've got lines north, south, east, and west.

What G.o.dd.a.m.n lines are under attack?"

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The young messenger was so badly frightened at his supreme commander's fury, he began stuttering. Bott-ger grabbed him by the shoulders and started shaking him. "What lines?"

"I don't know, sir," he finally managed to say.

"Good G.o.d!" Bottger shouted, shoving the soldier away from him. "Find me somebody who knows what the h.e.l.l is going on!" Bruno roared.

Troops of Bruno's MEF had expected an attack right after the abduction of the president. When none came, they began to relax. A lot of them would now be relaxed forever. Right on the heels of the fighter attack, artillery began pouring in rounds, then tanks roared in, followed byground troops. Raines's Rebels, aided by resistance fighters, broke through at dozens of locations. The MEF were confronted, quite briefly at most points, by Rebels who were fighting with a fury that Bottger's troops had never before encountered.

Bottger's troops were spread out over hundreds of miles of lines, many of them far away in the east in what used to be called Poland.

The Rebels cut through Bottger's western lines like a heated knife through b.u.t.ter.

Ben and President Blanton were suddenly confronted by several dozen reporters who had survived the crash of the second plane in the early morning hours. The reporters were banged up and bruised, but none appeared seriously injured. The press, about half of whom were American, were startled to see the president among Ben's troops.

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"What the h.e.l.l are you doing here?" Blanton asked. "What happened to you people?"

"The Rebels shot down our planes!" one reporter shouted. "Our pilot managed to land in a field. These Rebels plan to kill you, Mr.

President, and then take over the remainder of the United States."

"Don't be ridiculous!" Blanton snapped at them. "Ben and his people jumped in about an hour ago to rescue me."

"I don't even want the rest of the United States," Ben said. "It's filled with malcontents, ne'er-do-wells, liberals, and a.s.sholes like you people."

Ten minutes of shouting, cussing, and much arm-waving ensued before the Rebels-aided by Ca.s.sie Phillips, Nils Wilson, and Frank Service-managed to get some semblance of order restored.

"Listen to me!" Ben shouted. "We're smack in the middle of about five divisions of Bottger's troops. Let's get out of here and then we can argue about what happened."

"Scouts report a regiment of MEF coming hard at us from the west,"

Corrie said. "Five miles away and closing."

"Get into ambush positions," Ben ordered. "We'll need their vehicles. So aim for the drivers and spare the vehicles. Get our cars and trucks off the road and hidden and get set. Move!"

Three battalions of Rebels sought cover in the small crossroads town only a few miles south of Thun, along the sh.o.r.es of the lake. The reporters-now that they had gotten over their anger at Ben and realized they had been had by Bruno-all marveled at the precision 379.

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of the Rebels as they set up the ambush. It seemed to the reporters that one minute the streets were rilled with Rebels, and the next minute they had vanished."How large a force is a regiment, General?" a reporter asked Ben.

"Oh, just a bit larger than three of our full battalions. We're under strength because we couldn't drop in tanks and artillery and engineers and all the other personnel that usually make up and go in with a Rebel battalion."

"Why are you suddenly being so nice to us?" the reporter with a cut on his forehead asked suspiciously.

Jersey looked at the man and shook her head in disgust. "Can't please the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds," she muttered.

Ben chuckled. "Would you rather I be rude to you?"

"That's what we've come to expect from you, General," the reporter said honestly.

"Only because you people can't or won't understand that there are no rules to a war. That among other things."

"On the outskirts of town, boss," Corrie called.

"Get out of the way and don't interfere," Ben said to the reporter.

"Now you're back to normal," the man said, softening that with a grin.

"Yeah, welcome back, boss," Cooper said.

Ben grunted. "n.o.body breathe. Here they come."

There were dozens and dozens of heavy trucks, and many other smaller vehicles. Many of the trucks were towing light artillery pieces.

Ben smiled when he saw those. "We might not have to run too far," he muttered.

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"I see them," Jersey said, crouched by his side. "With them, we could make a stand."

"You got it, Little Bit."

"The lead truck is pa.s.sing recon," Corrie whispered loudly enough for Ben to hear. "The convoy is so long we're going to have to let the first ten or so trucks clear the other side of town."

"Tell Buddy. Some of his people can take care of them."

"This is murder," a reporter whispered. "You can't call it anything else."

Ben cut his eyes. Beth had laid down her weapon and pulled a razor-sharp knife from a leather sheath sewn onto the outside of her jump boot.

"I don't care what else you killers call it, it's just plain cold-blooded murder!" the man said, standing up. "And I won't permit it.

I've got to warn those soldiers. I've got to. d.a.m.n you all!"The man jumped up to make a dash for the door and Beth tripped him, then cut his throat from one side to the other.

The reporter that had been talking with Ben puked all over his shoes.

Beth wiped the sharp blade clean on the man's jacket and sheathed the knife. Then she picked up her weapon and resumed her position by the shattered window.

"Back when I was working for the Company," Ben said, "I recall a saying we used a lot: 'Never bother the woodchopper when the woodchopper is busy chopping wood.' " He looked at the group of reporters in the 382.

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building with him. "I'd keep that in mind if I were you."

The sounds of motors was getting louder.

Cooper bit off a piece of chocolate bar and pa.s.sed the bar to Jersey, who bit off a chunk and handed it to Ben, who bit off a piece and handed it to Corrie, who took a bite and handed it to Beth, who finished the bar.

"Barbarians!" another reporter hissed at Ben. "None of you are fit to a.s.sociate with decent human beings."