“I copy, Eagle. Give the dust-off about forty-five minutes.”
“Ten-four. We’ll be ready.”
Ben turned to Anna. “Let’s gather up a pile of dry brush. A big pile.” He pointed. “Stack it right over there. Then we wait.”
“Let’s pull up lots of this real dry grass. That’ll light easily. ”
“Good thought, Kiddo.”
“Bubble bath, here I come,” Anna said. “And you can get reacquainted with a razor. I can’t tell you how much I hate that damn moustache you grew.”
“Oh? I thought it gave me a Clark Gable look.”
“Who the hell is Clark Gable?”
Just moments after Ben and Anna had gathered up a mound of dry brush and stacked it at the edge of the clearing, on top of armloads of dry grass, they heard the sounds of running boots coming from the north.
“Federals,” Ben said. “We’re between a rock and a hard place now.”
Ben didn’t have to explain. Anna knew the no-man’s-zone was heavily mined, and it was a death trap for anyone who blundered out in it.
“Over there,” Ben said pointing. “That will at least give us the high ground.” He glanced at his watch. “Thirty minutes at least before the choppers arrive. We’ve got to hold out. We’re too close to home to pack it in now.”
The beams from what appeared to be dozens of flashlights were getting closer when Ben and Anna finished their run for the high ground and settled into position. They were about ten to twelve yards apart on the ridge.
The both laid their grenades and full magazines out to one side, for easier grabbing.
“I was getting tired of lugging these things around, anyway,” Anna said. She scooted over a few yards closer to him.
“Yeah, we’ll see if we can’t lighten the load some. They were getting a little heavy.”
“The civil war between the USA and the SUSA is going to really begin right here, isn’t it?”
“The combined events of this night will probably start it,” Ben agreed.
“It was inevitable, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” Ben said slowly. “It really was, Baby. But all of us who began the Tri-States movement knew that from the beginning, when it was just a dream.”
“That bastard and his bitch kid are around here somewhere,” the voice came from the woods.
“If I’m not a whore, I’m a bitch,” Anna whispered. “I’m beginning not to like these people.”
“Out there, Al,” another voice said. “They’re in the no-man’s-zone.”
“That’s crazy, Ed! They wouldn’t have gone out there. They’d be blown to pieces. There are hundreds, thousands of mines all over the damn place.”
“Maybe they know the way through?” someone else said. “If General Raines doesn’t know, who would?”
“That’s a thought, Jake.”
“At night?” Al scoffed. “No way, guys. Nobody goes walking through a minefield at night.”
“Not to mention black wire, razor wire, punji pits, and all kinds of other evil shit.”
“You’re sure right about that, Pat. Those goddamn Rebels really fixed this strip up nasty.”
“So what do we do?” a new voice was added.
“I don’t know, Dave, I’m not going out into that strip, you can bet on that.”
“What hell is that over there?” a Federal asked.
“Where, Donnie?”
Donnie put the beam from his flashlight on the mound of brush Ben and Anna had piled near the edge of the strip.
“It’s just a pile of brush. Shoved there when they were clearing this area.”
“I don’t think so, Ricky,” Al said. “Not the way that stuff is piled. It looks like . . . well, I’m not sure. Hell!” he suddenly blurted. “That’s for a signal fire! That’s what that is. I’m sure of it.”
“Then they ’re . . . real close,” another Federal said softly, his words just audible to Ben and Anna.
“Probably looking at us,” Al said, glancing all around him. “But where?”
In the cloudy night, Ben and Anna watched as the Federals began slowly backing up, edging their back toward the protection of the timber on the north side of the no-man’s-zone.
“There!” one Federal yelled, lifting his weapon. “They’ve got to be on that rise right there!” He pulled his weapon to his shoulder.
Ben shot him.
Anna squeezed the trigger on her CAR and two Federals went down.
The night was torn apart with the rattle of gunfire and sparkled with muzzle flashes.
Ben lifted his mike. “This is the Eagle. You copy?”
“Copy, sir.”
“We’re in a firefight with twelve to fifteen Federals. They’re in the timber on the north side. We’re on a small ridge just inside the zone. We’ll be unable to light the signal fire, but you should be able to spot the muzzle flashes. When you come into visual, we’ll toss a couple of grenades. You should be able to pick that up.”
“That’s ten-four, sir. We’ll spot you with night vision. The gunships will handle the Federals. When they come in, keep down. You copy?”
“Ten-four. What’s your ETA?”
“Approximately fifteen minutes, sir.”
“Ten-four. We’ll be here.”
Ben and Anna suddenly came under heavy rifle fire from the Federals in the timber. They could do nothing except keep their heads down. The Federals poured on the lead, but succeeded only in tearing up the earth in front of Ben and Anna.
The Federals paused in their fire for a few seconds and the pair on the ridge opened up, returning the fire. No one was hit, but the Federals learned the Rebels could bite.
“Let’s rush ’em!” a Federal shouted. “Up and at ’em. Go!”
“Now it gets hairy,” Ben called. “We’ve got to hold out for twelve more minutes,”
“Will do, Pops,” Anna replied calmly.
Then there was no more time for talk as shadowy figures began running out of the timber toward the high ground.
Twenty-seven
Ben and Anna waited until the Federals had begun the scramble up the slight incline before opening fire. Their first burst knocked several of the government troops back and sent them rolling to the ground. The savage fire put the rest of them scrambling away from the base of the incline and running for whatever cover they could find.
One of the Federals made the mistake of running around to the rear of the small rise of earth, trying to get a shot at Ben and Anna from behind. He stepped on a mine. There was a tremendous roar in the night, then stunned silence except for the dull splatting sounds of blown off limbs hitting the earth.
“Oh, God, Al!” one of the Federals hollered. “Larry stepped on one of those fucking mines. Oh, Jesus God in Heaven. He’s splattered all over the place.”
“Settle down, Wally,” Al called from the darkness. “You can’t help him now.”
“Goddamnit, Al,” another soldier called. “This ain’t worth a shit. They got the high ground and the area behind them is mined. We’ll never take them.”
Wally was crying and making no effort to hide it.
“Shut up, Wally!” Al yelled. “Goddamnit, just shut your fucking mouth and act like a man’s supposed to act.”
“Me and Larry was recruited together,” Wally said, his voice a sob in the night. “we went through basic together.” He broke down again and began weeping.
“Candy ass kid,” Al said, contempt in his voice. “Ignore him, guys.”
“I agree with John,” a Federal called. “We can’t dig them out, Al. We can’t breach that rise.”
Ben and Anna waited in silence.
“Then get on the damn radio and call for help,” Al yelled. “Edgar? You hear me?”
“Edgar’s dead,” Al was told. “He was the first to get hit. I ain’t about to try for the radio.”
“Shit!” Al said. “What the hell are we supposed to do? We’ve got to take those people. It’s our job, damnit!”
/> “We’re on our own, Al. Best thing we can do is wait them out,” another soldier called.
“All night long?”
“If we have to, yeah. Maybe then we’ll have some help.”
“Help? Are you kidding? The whole damn convoy is gone. The road’s impassable. The bridges are gone. The brigade’s nearly wiped out. Help? From where?”
Green troops again, Ben thought. Very few of them have ever been tested in battle. Many of the noncoms seem to have no combat experience.
Ben wondered what percentage of the Federal Army was green. Probably a very large portion, he concluded. And not very well trained, either. If Madame President Osterman insists on a war with us, it’s going to be a slaughter for the Federals—at least until they get some combat time behind them.
“These people are bullshit,” Anna called softly. “They don’t know the first thing about tactics.”
“Of course not,” Ben replied in a stage whisper. “The USA has turned into a unisex society. No difference in boys and girls. No parent who supports the New Left would dream of allowing their children to play with toy guns. No such games as cowboys and Indians. They aren’t allowed. That wouldn’t be politically correct.”
“What the hell do the boys play with?”
“Dolls and tea sets.”
“You’re joking!”
“Nope. ’Fraid not.”
“Good God!”
Ben smiled as he looked at the luminous hands of his watch. Seven more minutes until the choppers arrived.
“Keep a grenade handy,” he told Anna. “It won’t be long now.”
“They won’t be able to land. Mines.”
“They’ll hover until we can get on board. Don’t worry, Baby. We’re nearly home free.”
“My bubble bath. At last,”
“Hell with this!” one of the Federals yelled. He jumped up and ran out of the timber, a couple of his buddies with him, vague zig-zagging shadows in the night, heading straight for the high ground.
The zig-zagging stopped abruptly as Ben and Anna opened fire, each of them burning a full magazine into the hostile night. One of the Federals went down, and was silent. The other two went down on the ground, badly wounded. They jerked and moaned in pain, calling out for help.
No help came out of the timber, only the faint sounds of cursing.
Ben and Anna quickly slipped home fresh mags and waited on the crest of the small hill.
“You copy, Eagle?” Ben’s radio crackled.
“I copy, Rescue. We’re waiting.”
“Two minutes, Eagle. Four gunships will neutralize the area north of your position.”
“Ten-four, Rescue. We’ll keep our heads down. We’ll mark the hostile area with grenades.”
“We know where you are, Eagle. Just keep your heads down and let us do our thing.”
Ben smiled as he keyed the mike. “That’s affirmative, Rescue. Will do.”
Seconds later the throbbing sounds of helicopters could be heard in the darkness behind the pair on the rise of ground. Half a minute later the timber north of the rise exploded as the gunships unleashed all their deadly fury. The gunships cut loose with dozens of 2.75-inch folding fin rockets and 30mm chain guns. Each of the attack choppers carried over seventy of the deadly anti-personnel rockets, and the front edge of the timber quickly turned into a killing ground. Nothing was going to survive that pounding. Indeed, none of the Federal troops even got off a shot as the attacking helicopters turned the edge of the timber into a smoking strip of destruction.
A helicopter slowly began settling down over the crest of the high ground until its runners were only a few feet off the ground. Ben and Anna left their gear and quickly climbed on board. One of the crew assisting the pair gave them a big grin and the thumbs-up sign.
Ben smiled and returned the gesture as he and Anna buckled themselves in. The chopper turned and roared off into the night, heading south.
Toward home.
Ben slept for six hours and awakened refreshed. His feet were still a bit sore from all the walking in shoes not made for hiking, but other than that he felt fine.
The rescue chopper had set down at a base in Northern Arkansas, and Ben and Anna had immediately boarded a small jet and were flown the rest of the way to Base Camp One. Anna had gone home, to her small apartment only a few blocks from where Ben lived.
Ben was scheduled to meet with Ike and Cecil later on that day. Ike was to bring him up to date on all military actions that had taken place since he had been gone, Cecil to bring him up to date on the political front.
Ben learned one thing that had both saddened and angered him: President Altman was dead. The official word from Madame President Osterman’s government was that he died after a massive heart attack. Ben believed that about as much as he believed he could fly a jet fighter plane . . . and Ben was no pilot. There was not a doubt in Ben’s mind that Osterman had ordered Altman’s death. The two had never really seen eye to eye back before the Great War and the collapse.
After another long, hot, soapy shower (he had taken one upon arriving home) and a careful shave which included removal of his moustache, Ben took his coffee and went outside to sit on the front porch and relax and read that day’s paper.
The news was not good.
The paper was filled with war talk and stories about how the Rebels had thrown back repeated attempts by government troops to cross the SUSA’s borders.
Ben finally folded the paper and laid it aside. He knew war was looming; he did not need to be reminded of it. He was not looking forward to it, at all.
Ben finished his coffee and went inside to dress: BDUs and boots. Then he got into his HumVee and drove over to the capital building for his meeting with Cecil and Ike.
“It’s official, Ben,” Cecil said as soon as Ben was seated and had a mug of coffee. He held up a sheet of paper. “This was brought to me by courier, about an hour ago. . . direct from the United States Department of State. A state of war now exists between the USA and the SUSA.”
Ben took a sip of coffee. Just right. “Have you informed our allies?”
“Not yet. But it won’t come as any surprise to any of them. They have already assured me of their neutrality.”
“In writing?”
“Yes. And President Osterman has also been informed.”
Ben smiled. “I can just see that socialistic bitch bouncing off the walls of the new oval office.”
Cecil was in no mood for humor, having been on the phone with heads of state from around the world for the past few hours, but he had to smile at the mental image of Claire Osterman having one of her famous snits.
Ike belched at the thought, and Ben and Cecil laughed at their old friend. Ike lifted a hand and waggled a finger. “It ain’t funny, boys,” he said. “That damn woman hates us all. She hates us so much she’ll do anything to destroy us.
Cecil sobered abruptly. “Ike’s right, Ben. And after these recent humiliating defeats of her Federals at every move, and you and Anna slipping through her net to safety, she’ll be blind with fury.”
Ben nodded. “Oh, I’m well aware of that, Cecil. Remember, I know the woman. But what, really, can she do that we can’t confront and defeat? The answer is nothing at all.” Ben paused and sighed. “Even though . . .”
Cecil picked it up. “Even though it will destroy both nations in the end, right, Ben?”
“That’s about the size of it, Cece. Unless you have some viable alternative. Do you?”
Cece shook his head. “No. Not really. Nothing that would be acceptable to any of us, or to ninety-nine point nine percent of the residents of the SUSA.”
Ben spread his hands. “So there you have it. What choice does it leave us?”
Ike and Cecil looked at him and said nothing for a moment. Ike finally broke the silence. “Well, here we go again, boys.”
“Sure looks that way, Ike,” Ben replied.
“I don’t know what else I can do, diplomatically,” Ce
cil said. “I believe I have exhausted all peaceful options except for total unconditional surrender.”
“And that’s what Sugar Babe is demanding?” Ben asked.
“Total unconditional surrender and the dissolution of the SUSA—yes, that is what she is calling for.”
“Fuck that,” Ike said bluntly.
“Yes,” Ben said. “That is not an option.”
Ben rose from his chair and walked to a window that looked out on a street. He stood and stared out for a moment. In the SUSA, around the capital building, there were no closed streets or huge concrete barriers. The capital was as open as could possibly be. There were guards, of course, both in uniform and plainclothes. And there were restrictions about civilians carrying weapons in and around government buildings.
In the SUSA, terrorists and those who would harm an elected official in the capital had a very short life span. Assassination attempts had been made on a few occasions, but had never been successful. The assassins had been tried, convicted, and hanged in a manner of days, not years.
Ben turned from the window. “Put us on the highest alert, Cecil. Travel outside our borders into the USA is forbidden. Advise the citizens that we are now officially in a state of war with the United States of America.”
Twenty-eight
Ben and Ike split up the SUSA. Ike would command troops in Louisiana, Arkansas, Texas, Mississippi, and Alabama. Ben would take the eastern states of Tennessee, Florida, Virginia, Georgia, North and South Carolina.
The states of Oklahoma, Missouri, Kentucky, and West Virginia were split as to loyalties. Parts of Southern Illinois went with the SUSA, in spirit at least.
“Where do you want my CP, Ben?” Ike asked.
“We’ll float, Ike. For a time, anyway. Until we see how the wind blows.”
Ben would personally direct the 501, 503, 504, and 505 Brigades and all the reserves, Home Guard, and civilian militia in the states in his sector. Ike would command his 502, the other brigades, and the reserves, Home Guard, and militias in his sector.
The Rebels began making final preparations for a sustained, all-out war with the USA.
Hatred in the Ashes Page 23