by Wilbur Smith
Sean roused himself and looked around him. The cut line in which they stood was a natural killing ground, devoid of cover except for the knee-high stumps of hardwood. The open ground stretched two hundred meters wide to where the deadwood was piled in untidy windrows, the leaves long, withered, and browned, the branches forming a natural barricade.
"We'll make our stand there," Sean decided swiftly, and signaled Alphonso forward. They crossed the open ground at a run, bunched up with the two women in the middle. Miriam was drag her little brother along by one arm, and Alphonso ran protectively beside them. The big Shangane was heavily burdened with the radio and the packs of ammunition and stores they had picked UP from the ambush at the Save River, but he had also carried Mickey whenever the boy tired, setting him down on his feet for only short intervals. The three Shanganes, man, woman, and boy child, had very swiftly formed their own distinct core within the band, drawn together by tribal loyalties and natural physical attraction. Sean knew he could rely on Alphonso to take care of his trac own, and that allowed him to concentrate on his own particular charges, Claudia, Matatu, and now the little girl.
Alphonso needed no orders. Like Sean, he had a soldier's eye for terrain, and he ran unerringly toward a section of the tumble of discarded branches that formed a natural redoubt and that commanded the best field of fire across the cut line.
Swiftly they settled in, dragging some of the heavier branches into place to strengthen their position, laying out their weapons and spare ammunition, making their very limited preparations to stand off the first rush of the attackers.
Claudia and Miriam had taken the children a little further back to where a hollow in the earth and two especially large tree stumps formed some sort of shelter. His own preparations complete, Sean crossed to them quickly and, squatted beside Claudia.
"As soon as the shooting starts, I want you to take Miriam and the children and run for it," he told her. "Keep heading south." He broke off as he realized that she was shaking her head and her jaw was clenched obstinately.
"I've run far enough," she told him. "I'm staying with you." She laid her hand on his arm. "No, don't argue. It would be a waste of time."
"Claudia!"
"Please don't," she forestalled him. "There isn't much time left.
Don't spend it arguing."
She was right, of course, Sean knew. To try to run further on her own was pointless with two children to care for and a team of Renamo on her spoor. He nodded.
"All right," he agreed. He took the Tokarev pistol from his belt, cocked it, and carefully engaged the safety catch. "Take this."
"What's that for?" She stared at the weapon with distaste.
"I think you know what it's for."
"The same way as Job?"
He nodded. "It would be easier than going China's way."
She shook her head. "I couldn't," she whispered. "If there is no other way, at the end, won't you do it for me?"
"I'll try," he said. "But I don't think I'll have the guts. Here, take it, just in case." Reluctantly she accepted the pistol and tucked it into her belt.
"Now kiss me," she said.
Matatu's whistle interrupted their embrace. "I love you," Sean murmured in her calf.
"I'll love you she replied, "through all eternity."
He left her and crawled back into the piles of deadwood. At Matatu's side he sank down and peered out through the chink between two branches toward the edge of the forest.
For many minutes he saw nothing. Then there was a shadowy frit of movement among the holes of the standing hardwood, and Sean laid his right hand on the pistol grip of the AKM rifle and raised it until the butt stock touched his cheek.
The silence drew out in the languorous sunlit afternoon while they waited. No bird sang, no creature moved, until at last there was a muted bird whistle from the edge of the forest and a man shape detached itself and flitted into the opening, showing for just hi a small part of a second, then disappearing behind One Of the t ck tree stumps. As soon as it was gone another broke from the tree line a hundred meters further to the left and darted forward- This also disappeared, and almost immediately, out on the right, a one third Renamo guerrilla emerged.
"Three only," Sean murmured. They were not going to expose more men than that, and these were good. They advanced in fleeting rushes, never two together, widely spread out and wary as old torn-leopards coming in to the bait.
"What a pity," Sean thought. "We are only going to get one out he mark."
of this lot. I had hoped for a better killing to get us off t He concentrated on the advancing scouts, trying to pick the most dangerous of their enemies.
"Probably the one in the center," he decided, and almost immethe flick of the man's diately his choice was confirmed as he saw hand from behind the stump that hid him. He was signaling one that marked of the others forward, coordinating the advance, and him as the main man, the one to take out first.
"Let him come in close," Sean told himself. The AKM was no sniping rifle, and he didn't trust its accuracy over a hundred meters. He waited, willing the man in, watching for him over the sights of the rifle.
I The Renamo jumped up and kept coming. Sean saw that he was young, mid-twenties, with bandoliers of ammunition over both shoulders and a Rastafarian hairstyle, ribbons of camouflage rag braided into his hair. There was an Arabian cast to his features and an amber patina to his skin. He was a good-looking lad except that his left eye was a little askew and it gave his face a sly, knowing expression. ose enough. Sean Close enough to see the cast in his eye was el lined up carefully on the tree stump behind which the Renamo had disappeared. He drew a breath, exhaled half of it, and let the first joint of his right forefinger rest lightly on the trigger.
The Renamo popped up into his sights. Sean took him low, deliberately declining a clean kill. He knew what damage the 7.62IN men bullet would do as it plunged through his belly at over three thousand feet a second, and he knew from bitter experience just how unnerving it was to have one of your comrades lying in no-man's4and with his guts shot out, screaming for water and mercy. In the Scouts they called them "warblers," and a warbler in good voice could inhibit an attack almost as effectively as a RPD machine gun.
well-placed Sean heard the bullet hit the Renamo in the stomach, that meaty thump like a watermelon dropped on a stone floor, and he went down out of sight in the trash and debris.
Instantly there was a heavy volley of rifle fire from the edge of the forest, but it was obvious from the wild aim that they had not spotted Sean and the firing stuttered swiftly into silence. Renamo was conserving ammunition, a sure sign of their discipline and training. Second-rate African troops started firing at the beginning of a contact and kept shooting until their last round was expended.
"These lads know their business," Sean confirmed Matatu's estimate. "We aren't going to hold them long." The two guerrillas were still pinned down in the middle of the cut line, and there was a low, hollow groan from out there as the first pangs of the belly wound hit the downed man.
"Sing to us, Daddy-o!" Sean encouraged him. "Let your pals know how it hurts." But he was studying the forest edge, trying to get some hint of the next play before it developed.
"Now they'll make a pincer move to try to outflank us," he guessed. "But which flank, left or right?" As if in answer he saw a tiny blur of movement in the forest. One of them was moving right.
"Alphonso," Sean called softly. "They are going to try the right.
Stay here. Hold the center."
Sean crawled back until he was hidden by the high windrow of brush. Then he rose to his feet and ran doubled over, out to the right flank.
Four hundred meters out he dropped to his knees and crawled forward, finding another position facing the forest wall. He wriggled in behind a protective stump and marshaled his breathing, watching the tree fine, the AKM set on automatic fire and his thumb on the safety catch.
He had anticipated the. next move almost perfect
ly; the flanking movement came out of the forest only a hundred meters further to his right. A detachnVnt of eight troopers, they came all together, trying to reach the cover of the windrow in a single concerted rush, and Sean let them get halfway across the cut line.
"This is better, I should be able to get a brace out of this covey," he told himself. He had them in enfilade; his fire would be coming in from their flank and sweeping the line. He picked out the section leader, who was running slightly ahead of the line. Sean led him by a man's length so he would run into the stream of fire, took him at knee height because the AKM rode up brutally in automatic, and held the trigger down.
The section leader dropped as though he had fallen over a trip wire, and the two men following him ran into the same burst. Sean saw the bullets hit them. One of them took it in the shoulder, and a puff of dust flew from his camouflage tunic to mark the strike.
The other was a head shot, a clean hit in the temple, and as he went down his baseball cap fluttered from his head like a maimed dove.
"Three." Sean changed magazines, pleased with the result. He had expected one and hoped for two.
The rest of them had turned and were racing back for the forest, their attack broken completely. Sean got off another quick burst before they reached the trees and thought he saw one of them hunch his shoulders and lurch to the shot, but he kept going and disappeared.
Almost immediately there was another burst of firing back in the center, and Sean jumped up from behind his stump and ran back to help Alphonso.
As he ran, somebody opened up on him from the forest. Shot passed close to his head with that vicious whiplashing sound that made his adrenaline spurt hotly into his bloodstream. He ducked his head and ran on. He was enjoying himself, riding the curling wave of his terror.
In the center there was a sharp firefight raging. Renarno was trying to rush the open ground, and they were almost across when Sean fell flat in the brush near Alphonso and added the weight of his fire to the defense. The attack wavered and broke just short of the row of deadwood behind which they lay. The Renamo went ducking and dodging back between the tree stumps, the AK fire kicking up dust around them.
"Two!" Alphonso shouted across at Sean. "I put two of them down." But Matatu was tugging at Sean's arm and pointing out to the left flank. Sean was just able to get a glimpse of another group of Renamo cutting across the cut line and reaching cover on this side. The attacks on the right and center had been diversions. Now there were a dozen or so Renanio coming in behind them; within minutes they would be surrounded, pinned down helplessly.
"Alphonso, they have got in our rear," Sean called across.
"There was nothing we could do to stop them," Alphonso answered. "There are too many, we are too few."
"I am going back to hold the rear. I'll be with the women."
"They won't attack again," Alphonso told him flatly. "Now that they have us surrounded they will wait for the hen shaw to come." A burst of automatic fire raked the pile of deadwood, and they ducked instinctively.
"They are only shooting to hold us," Alphonso called. 11 ey Th don't have to risk losing more men."
"How long until the helicopter arrives? Sean wanted his own estimate confirmed.
"Not more than an hour," Alphonso told him with finality.
"Then it will all be over very quickly."
Alphonso was, right Against the Hind there was no defense, no more tricks to play.
"I'm leaving you here," Sean repeated, and he crawled back to the hollow in which the women were concealed.
Claudia had Minnie on her lap, but she looked up expectantly as Sean slid down the shallow side of the hollow.
"They've got in behind us," Sean told her shortly. "We are surrounded" He dumped the empty AK magazines in front of her.
"There are boxes of spare ammo, in AlPhonso's pack. You know how to fin these."
It would keep her busy. The next hour was going to be difficult to live through. Sean crawled to the back lip of the hollow and peered over the edge.
He saw something move in the dried brown leaves fifty paces ahead of him, and he fired a quick burst into the brush. His fire was returned from three or four positions in their rear. AK bullets cracked overhead, and behind him Minnie wailed with fright. The minutes dragged past slowly, the silence broken every few seconds by sporadic bursts of -holding fire from the Renanio positions.
Claudia crawled up beside Sean and stacked the replenished magazines at his right elbow.
"How many boxes leftT" he asked.
"Ten," she told him, and pressed a little closer to him.
It didn't really matter that there were only two hundred rounds remaining in Alphonso's pack. Scan looked up at the sky. Any moment now they woulil hear the whistle of the Hind's turbos. Claudia read his Aoughts, and she groped for his hand. Lying in the hot African sun, they held hands and waited. There was nothing left to say, nothing more they could do. No defense, however feeble. All that remained was to wait for the inevitable.
Matatu touched Sean's leg. It wasn't necessary to say anything.
Sean cocked his head and picked up the sound. It was higher and steadier than the soughing of the afternoon breeze in the forest tops.
Claudia squeezed his hand very hard, digging her fingernails into his palm. She had heard it also.
"Kiss me," she whispered. "One last time." And he laid the rifle down and roiled onto his side to take her in his arms. They strained together, holding with all their strength. if I have to die," Claudia whispered, -I'm glad it will be like an this." And Sean felt her press the loaded Tokarev into his h d.Good-bye, my darling," she said.
He knew he had to do it, but he did not know where he would find the courage.
The sound of the Hind s engines was rising into a high Penetrating shriek.
He slid the safety catch to the "off" position and lifted the Tokarev gently. Claudia's eyes were tightly closed, and she had turned her head half away. A little swear-damp tendril of dark hair hung down in front of her ear, and he could see the artery beating under the creamy skin of her temple that the curl had protected from the sun. It was the most difficult task he had ever set himself, but he raised the muzzle of the Tokarev to her temple.
There was a shattering explosion of a shell burst on the lip Of their shelter. Instinctively Sean pulled Claudia down to protect her. He thought for a moment that the Hind had opened fire, but that was impossible; it was still out of sight and range.
A further series of explosions crashed out in rapid succession, and Sean lowered the pistol and released Claudia. He rolled to the lip of the hollow and saw that a heavy barrage of fire was sweeping the Renamo positions. Mortar fire-Sean recognized the characteristic bursts of three-inch mortar shells and then the rushing the trees of the forest. The smoke trails of RIG rockets among rattling din of small arms drowned out even the sound of the approaching Hind. The entire situation had changed.
Suddenly they were in the midst of a battle, and Sean saw figures running wildly among the windrows and stumps, firing as they ran.
"Frelimo!" Matatu was tugging at Sean's arm and screeching with excitement. "Frehmo!"
Only then did Sean understand. Their desultory exchange of fire with the Renamo pursuers must have called up a large force of Frelimo troops who had been massed in the immediate vicinity, probably preparing to attack the Save River line.
Now the fifty Renamo guerrillas suddenly found themselves attacked by a vastly superior Frelimo force. Judging by the intensity of fire, Sean estimated that there were several hundred Frelimo out there in the forest, front line regular troops in battalion strength.