Ambush in the Ashes (28 page)

“GA. is here now?” Ben asked.

“You bet. He’s a squad leader. Was,” she corrected. “He’s got his shit together, too, believe me. I don’t think I would have made it without him.”

“Does he have a last name?”

“Armstead.”

Ben wrote that down on a pad. G. A. Armstead didn’t know it yet, but he was about to become a platoon sergeant. “Go on, Anna.”

“There isn’t that much more to tell. We found other Rebels along the way and hooked up with them. Then we found two trucks that had been abandoned. I don’t know why. Fuel tanks were full and they ran just fine. So we piled in and kept traveling north. Here I am.”

“And I am glad to see you. You go get outfitted now then get some rest. I’ll see you at lunch.”

She leaned over the table and kissed her adopted father on the cheek and with a smile, was out the door with the boundless energy of the young.

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Ben leaned back in the chair. If Anna made it clear, there was a chance the others in his team did, too. He could only hope.

Ben finished the prelims on the upgraded brigade and walked over to the communications shack, giving the recommendations and wants to the officer in charge to be transmitted to Cecil, back at Base Camp One.

The 501st Brigade was now official.

Ben grabbed a Hummer and drove over to the tarmac, watching the huge cargo planes come in. They were circling in the sky like huge prehistoric birds. The Rebels had cut the waiting time for them down to ten minutes, then it was touch down, unload, and back in the air again.

Most of the huge cargo planes would head back to a port to await the arrival of ships from the States. The ships were sailing at flank speed to get to a western port to unload much needed supplies: carrying everything from cases of underwear to tanks.

Ben drove over close to the MASH tents. The doctors were seeing refugees as fast as they could, and still the lines stretched as far as the eyes could see. The hopeless cases were placed in the rear of the tents, under tarps rigged up to give them some shade from the sun and shelter from the rains … the men, women, and children lay on blankets on the ground, most without make a sound of complaint, human skeletons waiting to die.

The fires from the destroyed city of Niamey still smoldered and burned in the distance. The airport was some 12 kilometers from the city.

Ike drove up and got out of his Hummer, walking over to stand by Ben’s side. “Just talked to Cecil. Five hundred new troops are on the way over from the States. Five hundred more in a few weeks. We’ll incor-

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porate them into all brigades, moving some seasoned troops around.”

“Any more stragglers?”

“Several hundred, Ben. I told you there would be more. And there will be more still to come. And no, there is no word about your team and Dr. Chase. I’m sorry.”

“I am too, Ike. But I won’t start putting together a new team until I’m certain-one way or the other.”

“You’ve got Anna back. That’s a good sign.”

“I think so.”

“Well, I drove out to tell you that Buddy is on his way in, with a couple of other batt corns. Excuse me, brigade commanders. Be here in about two hours.”

“Thanks. The new designations will take a little getting used to. I still slip myself.”

“Forty battalions. A lot of batt corns, Ben.”

“I know. A lot of lieutenants promoted to captains, a lot of captains promoted to major, and a lot of majors promoted to Lt. Colonel. And I haven’t even begun a list yet. And I want some recommendations from you.”

“I can work some up pronto.”

“Good. Do that. This is going to take a lot of strain off us, Ike. I should have done this a long time ago.”

“I stopped by the MASH tents,” Ike said, after a moment of silence.

“So did I.”

“Ben, I never realized just what kind of monster Bruno Bottger is until we got over here. He must have killed millions of these people.”

“Yes. And enslaved many of those left.”

“I wonder where the mass graves are?”

“I doubt if his people bothered. He’s been over here for some time now. The animals and birds ate what didn’t rot and then scattered the bones.” Ben cut his

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eyes. “You did notice the animals have made a dramatic comeback, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I did,” Ike replied drily. “They seemed quite well fed.”

“Now you know why.”

“Intel says Bruno has set aside huge chunks of land for the animals to live on. Absolutely no hunting allowed.”

“Yeah? That’s wonderful. Hider played the harmonica, too. But I still don’t have to like the son of a bitch.”

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Ben began meeting with Batt Corns, a couple a day, until he had met with them all and lined out the new brigade designations. They handed in lists of people they felt should be promoted. Ben had their files pulled stateside-many files the Rebels carried with them had been lost during the battle-and carefully went over them. Slowly he laid out the new battalions, companies, platoons, and their leaders.

A few days drifted into a few weeks, and still he had heard no news, good or bad, about his team and Dr. Chase and several of his medical staff. But he refused to give up hope, for stragglers were still coming in all up and down the line, in tiny groups of two or three and occasionally the lone Rebel.

Ben interviewed each of them, seeking news of his team and of Dr. Chase.

One of the last Rebels to come wandering in had news.

“They were all hit, General,” the tired Rebel said, holding a mug of coffee between his dirty hands. His clothing was nearly in rags. “And hit pretty hard, but still able to function. The only one I didn’t see with some sort of wound was Dr. Chase. He was helping Jersey get away from the battle. Several doctors were with them, and they were all bleeding and limping. We were

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all being pushed back, just about a couple of minutes before being overrun. I’m pretty sure your team and some of the doctors got away. I was the last man standing in my squad when I cut out. I’m not ashamed to say I ran.”

“No one is blaming you for that,” Ben said. “And no one in their right mind ever will. Which direction did my team take?”

The Rebel took a sip of coffee, his brow furrowed in thought. “North, I think, General. But they could have turned in any direction outside the camp. Those of us who got away scattered like wild geese without a leader.”

Ben smiled and patted the man on the shoulder. “Glad to have you back, Sergeant. Oh, by the way, you’re a lieutenant now.” Ben saluted him. “You owe me a dollar. Now get out of here and get checked out.”

The stunned Rebel walked out of the CP in more of a daze than when he came in.

Ben looked at the mound of paperwork on his desk and grimaced. He shoved it aside and stood up. Time for a break.

He waved aside his driver and decided to walk. He had been sitting behind the desk for several hours and needed to get the kinks out of his muscles. Security fell in behind him as he strolled the area.

He paused to let a dozen huge flatbed trucks rumble by, each one loaded with a tank or an APC. The trucks had been to some port, where ships were coming in daily, bringing thousands of tons of supplies and instruments of war.

Ben figured another six weeks and everything would be lined out, the brigades ready to march.

He walked over to die runway and watched several planes land, each one bringing in fresh recruits from the States. The young men and women just out of AIT. “Going to be a hell of a culture shock for you, boys and

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girls,” Ben muttered. “Leaving the peace and order of the SUSA for this place.”

“Move, damnit!” he heard one of the sergeants shout at the new troops. “Get your asses in gear. We got a war to fight. Move like this in combat and the ants will be eating your eyes.”

One of Ben’s security people chuckled and Ben smiled and turned to look at him. “Does that bring back memories, Corporal?” he asked.

“Sure does, sir. I landed in Europe some years ago, fresh out of AIT. And scared shitless.”

“I hope you learned to stay scared.”

“Bet on that, sir. Bet on it.”

Staying scared and cautious was the only way to stay alive in combat.

“PUFFs comin’ in, sir,” another of his security team said.

Ben turned and looked. Half a dozen Spectre gunships were lining up for landing. The planes were flying birds of death, equipped with all sorts of weapons: chain guns, cannon, fifty-caliber machine guns, rockets. When they began circling an enemy position, a single Spectre could spew out enough firepower to wipe out anything within an area the size of several football fields, from an altitude of five thousand feet.

Many still called them: Puff the Magic Dragon.

And Ben was keeping several very deadly secrets to himself. And would, until his troops began the assault against Bruno’s new homeland.

Bruno Bottger was in for a very large and deadly surprise.

Ben walked on, coming to the MASH tents. The line of refugees seeking medical aid was much smaller now, but the lines of dying behind the tents was not. It was a sight that no one, not even the most hardened of combat veterans could ever really get used to seeing.

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Ben turned away and began walking toward the center of the massive encampment. With the addition of the new troops from the States, his brigade, the 501st, would be up to full strength. A few more weeks and all the tanks and artillery would be ashore and in place. Then he would have to shake it all down and line it all out before he could take to the road.

The other brigades were ready to roll, but Ben’s 501st had incorporated many-if not most-of the survivors from the eight battalions that had been hard hit by Brunos surprise attack. It was taking some time, but Ben knew they were right on schedule. It was not something you could rush. Not when each person’s life depended on the man or woman next to them.

The several-mile walk had gotten the kinks out of Ben’s muscles, and he felt much better. He turned away from die scene of organized chaos and began the walk back to his CP, and the stacks of paperwork that awaited him there.

“If Bruno had any kind of air force we’d be in trouble,” Ben muttered. But he knew-and that was confirmed fact-that Bottger really had no air force to speak of, with the exception of helicopter gunships and a few fighters-no bombers. Bruno had concentrated on building up a mighty army of ground troops … and he had damn sure done that. And Ben knew better than to sell Bruno’s people short. They were excellent troops. The Rebels were going to be outnumbered twenty to one when they began their offensive.

But then the Rebels were always outnumbered. That was nothing new.

Back in his CP, Ben settled down to wade through more paperwork. He missed his team all the time, but this was when he missed Beth the most. Bedi could cut through paperwork in one tenth of the time it took Ben.

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And this was something he couldn’t hand over to Thermopolis. The ex-hippie turned warrior had his hands full with all the hundred of details with the new brigade designation.

Ben sighed and stood up to get another mug of coffee. It was then he noticed Anna standing in the door to his office, smiling at him.

“What are you so happy about?” Ben asked.

“Search helicopters found the team and Dr. Chase and those doctors who fled with him. They’re all alive.”

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Ben ignored his Hummer and ran over to the como shack, almost scaring the communications specialist half to death when he burst into the room.

“Where are they?” Ben asked. He calmed himself. “My team, Dr. Chase?”

“About three hours away, General.” The tech stood up and pointed to a spot on a wall map of Africa. “They were spotted right there.”

Ben stared and shook his head. “Never more than twenty-five miles from the original battle scene all the time. I’ll be damned.”

“Yes, sir. Your team was all hard hit. They couldn’t be moved.”

“But they’re all going to make it?”

“According to the medics on board the choppers, they’re all up and walking around, General.”

Ben patted the soldier on the shoulder and smiled. Then he stepped out of the building and sat down on the lowered tailgate of a pickup truck. He exhaled a couple of times, then slowly built himself a cigarette. Anna came running up, accompanied by half a dozen other Rebels, all of them original members of Ben’s old 1 Batt and survivors of the battle.

Ben held up a hand. “They’re all okay. Be here in a few hours. That’s all I know. We’ll all have to wait.”

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The knot of Rebels was all grins as they walked away. Anna stayed, plopping down on the tailgate beside Ben. She looked disapprovingly at the cigarette in Ben’s hand.

“Don’t say a word about it,” Ben warned.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I’m sure.”

“So when the team gets here, we’ll be ready to shove off, right, General Ben?”

“In about six weeks, Anna.”

She unwrapped a couple of sticks of gum, stuck them in her mouth, and chomped for a few seconds. “That will put us out of the rainy season, right?”

“Just about.”

“And then we can start kicking Bruno Bottger’s ass, right?”

“That’s the plan.”

She hopped down from the tailgate. “I’ll be at the airport.”

“I’ll see you over there in about an hour.”

Ben finished his smoke and began walking toward the runways, his security team falling in behind him. The area in and around the airport had become a staging area, with hundreds of thousands of tons of supplies stored and stacked everywhere and more coming in every day. Ben looked up at the sky. Huge transport planes were circling, bringing in more supplies and equipment and troops from the States.

In another week, Ben could start shaking down his new brigade and about a month after that, they would be rolling south.

At the airport, his new XO, John Michaels, came running up. “Is it true, General? Your team and Dr. Chase were found and all okay?”