Hatred in the Ashes, page 24
The terms that Madame President Osterman wanted above all else were ones that Ben would not even consider: surrender and the dissolution of the SUSA.
Ben could see no way that a civil war between the SUSA and the USA could be avoided.
"ETA thirty minutes, General." The words crackled through Ben's headset.
Ben unbuckled and walked back to where his team was sitting. The huge cargo plane was carrying Ben's personal vehicle, tons of supplies, and a platoon from Ben's 501 Brigade.
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"Coop, as soon as we touch down we're heading straight for the front lines," Ben said.
"OK, Boss," Ben's driver acknowledged.
"Corrie, has there been any word from any of the other hot spots?"
"Nothing, Boss."
"Word from Cecil?"
She shook her head.
Ben nodded and returned to his seat. Just moments before Ben's plane took off from Base Camp One, Cecil had informed him that Osterman had agreed to a seventy-two hour cease-fire during which representatives from both governments would meet to discuss the main sticking points between the two sides.
Osterman had inquired if General Raines would be present at the talks.
She was informed that he would not.
"Good," she had replied. "Just the sight of that man makes me nauseated."
When Ben had been informed of her comment, the lone reporter Ben would allow anywhere near him decided immediately that it would be best Ben's reply not be printed.
Cooper pointed the nose of the big, nine-passenger wagon north, and within a couple of hours after landing he was facing the Federals' front lines, about a thousand meters away, studying the situation through binoculars.
Ben lowered the long lenses, turning to the colonel commanding the battalion of the Home Guard assigned to this sector. "Looks good. Looks real good. You hold for seventy-two more hours, Colonel, while the cease-fire is in effect, just three more days, and by the time it's over you and your people can fall back for a much deserved rest and perhaps see your families for a time."
"That would be wonderful. I'll tell the troops. Oh, we'll hold, General.
You can count on us." He smiled. "Although some of my people are getting a bit long in the tooth for this sort of thing."
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Ben chuckled softly. He could empathize with the colonel's remarks ...
at least to some small degree. His own close-cropped hair was almost all iron-gray now, with only a few specks of brown, not at all unattractive on him. "I understand that, Colonel. I'm sure as hell no young strutting rooster anymore, myself. But your people are doing one hell of a job. If I could, I'd shake every hand here and personally congratulate them."
"I'll pass that word along, General. It'll sure tickle my people to know you said it."
"Let's see the lines, Colonel."
The battalion commander was momentarily startled. "Ah ... all of them, General?"
"All of them, Colonel. Every inch of the lines from west to east."
"They stretch for miles, General," the colonel said doubtfully.
"We have time," Ben replied with a smile.
"Would you like to rest for a while first, General?"
"No."
"Something to eat, perhaps?"
"No."
"All right, General. We'll check out the lines." He smiled. "All fifty or so miles of them."
By the end of the first day at the front, Ben had not been able to see all of the miles long front, but he had seen enough to know the Home Guard, the militias, and the few reserves that he'd managed to get into place were in good shape, both in equipment and in spirit.
They were ready for anything the Federals might decide to throw at them.
"Osterman certainly has nuclear capabilities," the colonel said.
"She won't use them," Ben replied. "For one thing, the Rebels are so spread out the nukes would mostly kill civilians. As much as Osterman hates me, she won't be
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responsible for the killing of innocent civilians ... at least, I don't think she will."
"Personally, I think the woman's crazy."
"Oh, no, Colonel," Ben corrected. "She's not crazy. Not in the least.
But she is a democrat/socialist, and to their way of thinking that means they're one hundred percent right about all things and there is no room for compromise. You're close enough to my age to remember all the squabbling the old Democrat and Republican parties used to have. They usually managed to hammer things out ... eventually. Then, only a few years before the collapse and the Great War, it seemed to all go to shit. The Democrats changed, their philosophy becoming more hard-line socialism and new world order. Open borders and go easy on criminals.
It's not pure socialism. It's a unique form of socialism that belongs solely to the democrat/socialist party." Ben waved a hand and grimaced.
"Ah, what the hell? It's all moot now. The old Republican party has all but been outlawed, the democrat/socialists are firmly in power, and the nation is split. So here we are."
"Facing the fight of our lives."
"I think you're right in saying that, Colonel. Win, lose, or draw, the nation will never be the same after the last shot is fired. Not this time."
"But we will win, won't we, General? You don't have any doubts about that, do you?"
"Oh, we'll win, Colonel. No, I really have no doubts about that. What I'm wondering is what we'll win after the last shot is fired."
"I don't follow you, General."
"What will be left, Colonel?"
"Why ... the SUSA, General."
"And a completely, totally, utterly devastated neighbor to the north.
Factories and highways and newly rebuilt bridges and office buildings destroyed. Lives turned upside down and fresh careers gone. And to make matters worse, the residents filled with hate toward the SUSA."
"General Raines, the USA has at least five times the 285
population of the SUSA... probably more than that. They could easily field five times our number."
"But they won't, Colonel. Liberals abhor war. They hate guns. Violence sickens them. They don't want to fight. They want somebody else to do their fighting. Look what's been done recently-they've scrapped the Star Spangled Banner as the national anthem because they didn't like 'bombs bursting in the air' and other lines that they say glorify war. They're now squabbling among themselves trying to pick a song that's 'soft and pretty.' Patriotism is "old hat" in the USA. Frowned upon. There is no God. No Divine Being. No Higher Power. Liberals are far too intelligent to believe in such nonsense as that. They've lost their direction. And they'll lose this war. And in a manner of speaking, so will we. The USA will lose many material things, but they can't lose their faith, Colonel, because the majority of them don't have any. At least, we will never lose our faith."
"I understand what you're saying, General." Ben smiled. "Good, Colonel.
Now let's head back and get some chow. I'm hungry."
The Rebel buildup of troops and supplies continued around the clock for the next three days. Bridges along the border were wired to be blown electronically. Thousands of deadly mines were laid. Since the Rebels were always prepared for a fight, depots around the SUSA were already filled to capacity with millions of rounds of ammunition, weapons, rockets, mines, grenades, spare parts, clothing and boots, medical supplies, and everything else the Rebels would need for a sustained fight.
With just a few hours to go before the seventy-two hour cease-fire ran out, Ike radioed Ben and told him that everything was ready in his sector: his people were in place, and geared up for whatever the Federals might throw at them. There was little else he could do.
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"Prayer certainly wouldn't hurt," Ben told his longtime friend.
"I been doin' that, Ole' Buddy," Ike responded.
"Keep it up."
"Don't worry, I will!"
Then, with only two hours to go on the deadline, a spokesperson for Madame President Osterman asked if the cease-fire could be continued for another three days.
Ben laughed when he read the communiqué. "Sure," he told Cecil. "Give them all the time they need. They're finally getting smart and building up just like we are ... as best they can with what they have to draw from. Our eyes in the sky picked that up three days ago. Some extra time will benefit us much more than it will them."
"You're sounding very chipper today, Ben."
"I've been doing a lot of soul-searching since we last spoke, Cece. We didn't start this conflict with the USA. We offered to establish trade agreements with them, offered them protection ... the whole damn ball of wax. But nothing will appease them except for us to turn belly up and kiss their socialistic asses, and when we won't they want a damn war.
Well, to hell with them. They can kiss my Rebel dick!"
Cecil laughed. "You are feeling your oats today, aren't you, Ben? Well, I've done some soul-searching myself, and I agree with you one hundred percent. You'll be interested in knowing that some surveys were done here in the SUSA. Something just over ninety-six percent of those surveyed agree with our stand. So, give 'em hell, Ben."
"I felt the people of the SUSA would be solidly behind us. Anything less would have surprised me."
"Me, too," Cecil said. "Ben, are we going to be ready when the Federal push comes?"
"Oh, yes. We're just about as ready now as we can get. A few more days will enable our people all along the line to get in place. Our fighters are under wraps at an old base south of us, and the pilots are hot to go. I'm sure the Federals know we have quite an air force, but not as 287
substantial as what they're going to see when the action starts."
"You anticipate any problems in pushing them back across the border where you are?"
"None at all, Cece. The only reason the Federals managed to penetrate this far into our territory is because this is one of the strips that was never completely cleared and mined. Sugar Babe really screwed up by asking for a few more days."
"It might be a trick on her part, Ben. Have you considered that?"
"That's the very first thing that popped into my head, ole' buddy. We'll see."
"All right. You take care, Ben."
"You too, Cece."
Ben talked with a few more people that day and he and his team took off in the big, nine-passenger wagon to make a run over to the easternmost outpost of Rebels, on the west side of the Cumberland River, just a few miles south of the Kentucky line. Ben's personal security platoon was with him, of course, both leading the way and following in half a dozen vehicles.
"What?" Ben heard Corrie say. "You're breaking up. Say again."
Ben twisted in his captain's chair to look at her and to listen to the one-sided conversation.
"Are you sure about that? Nothing here," Corrie said. "It's quiet."
"What in the hell's going on?" Ben asked. "Talk to me, Corrie."
"Apparently, Federals have broken the cease-fire, Boss. They've begun a hard push against our people at several places. Our people are holding
... so far."
"That damn bitch!" Ben said. "Well, it's what I half suspected would happen."
"They violated the truce first," Anna spoke. "So from now on it's anything goes. No rules, right, Pop?"
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Ben hesitated, then said, "If that's the way they want to play it. It's a brand new ballgame now."
"Federal troops coming straight at us, Boss!" Corrie yelled. "Less than a thousand meters away to our north. A full company of them."
"Who the hell is reporting that?"
"A spotter plane, Boss." She held up a hand as Cooper looked to Ben for orders. "Federals pushing hard against our easternmost troops. They're attempting to flank them."
"Tell our people we're making a stand right here, Corrie. Pull over, Coop. Head for that ridge over there to our right. The war just started for real," Ben said through clenched teeth.
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Chapter Thirty
With Cooper leading the way, bouncing across the clearing toward the series of low brush and timber-covered hills, the platoon followed. The several pickup trucks that were always with Ben and his security platoon, filled with all manner of weapons and gear, were the last vehicles to cross the clearing and duck behind the hills.
Ben did not have to order his people to spread out and get into position: his security platoon operated like a fine Swiss watch. Each person knew his job and got to it without being told.
"Five hundred meters from the road," Ben's spotter called. He was using very high power long lenses with range finder. "Advancing slowly."
"Mortars ready to go," Ben was informed.
"Heavy machine gun ready," a Rebel called.
"Big thumpers ready," another called.
Ben's security team carried two 60mm mortars, one .50 caliber machine gun, two M-60 machine guns, two SAW's (not counting the Squad Automatic Weapon Cooper used), and two 40mm automatic grenade launchers, called Big Thumpers. All members carried regulation M-16's with 290
bloop tubes. Ben used either his CAR or his old faithful M-14, affectionately known as a Thunder Lizard.
"Four hundred meters from the road," the spotter said.
"They're sure to spot the tire tracks where we cut off and came over here," Jersey said.
"Good," Ben said. "That suits me just fine. I'm ready for a fight."
The platoon waited on the crest of the low hills, hidden from view by brush and timber.
"Approaching the road and stopping," the spotter called. "Point man checking it out."
"Has he spotted our tire tracks?" Ben asked.
"Doesn't seem to have noticed them, General. They're crossing the road."
"This is too easy," Ben muttered. "I almost feel sorry for them."
"I don't," Anna spoke up. "It's like you said, Pops- They started it."
Ben cut his eyes to her. She unwrapped a piece of gum, stuck it in her mouth, and began chomping nonchalantly. Anna certainly has the right attitude for this business, Ben thought. He looked at Jersey, lying beside Anna. The diminutive bodyguard yawned. Ben smiled and looked at Corrie. She was busy talking to someone back at their CP, probably giving our location and calling in for gunships. Beth looked as though she was thinking about taking a short nap. Cooper was lying behind his SAW, munching on a candy bar.
"Approaching max range for M-16's," the spotter said.
"Hold your fire," Ben said to Corrie, and she passed the word down the line. "Set mortar elevation for three hundred meters."
All eyes close to him turned to him. "Three hundred meters, Boss?"
Corrie asked.
"Three hundred," Ben repeated. "We'll finish this within seconds after starting it."
"We sure will," Beth muttered. "We'll be checking to see how close they shaved this morning."
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Ben smiled at that, and the Rebels on the ridge waited, silent and motionless.
"They finally noticed the tire tracks," the spotter said. "They're looking at them."
"Green troops with green commanders," Ben heard a Rebel sergeant mutter in disgust.
"Knock it off," Ben said.
There was no more talk from the line of Rebels.
"Approaching range," the spotter said. After a few seconds, he added,
"In range."
"Fire," Ben said.
Several dozen weapons of various calibers and millimeters opened up from the ridge. The Rebels turned the clearing below them into a solid killing field. The flower-sprinkled meadow became slashed with crimson and noisy with the screaming of the panic-stricken and frightened, with the moaning of the wounded. The suddenly dead seemed loud in their final and permanent silence.
Probably sixty percent of the Federal force were killed or severely wounded during the first minute of the Rebels' opening up from the hills. Many of the rest of the green troops panicked and tried to run back toward the road. The Rebels cut them down with 40mm grenades, high explosive mortar rounds, and machine gun fire.
After only a few minutes Ben called for a cease-fire up and down the line. "Can you transmit on their frequency?" he asked Corrie.
"Affirmative, Boss."
"Tell them to gather up their wounded and get the hell back to their own lines. Do it right now. We'll take care of any wounded they can't carry or their aid people don't think can be moved. This is the only chance to leave I'll give them. If they try to make a fight of it, I'll kill them all."
Corrie spoke for a few seconds. She cut her eyes to Ben. "They'll leave as soon as they can gather up all their wounded."
"Tell them to leave all their weapons and ammo and 292
grenades. That will lighten their load considerably," he added drily.
"Will do."
The Rebels on the ridge waited and watched as the Federals gathered up their wounded and prepared to move out back to their lines.
"The officer down there wishes to speak to the ranking officer up here,"
Corrie told Ben.
"Tell him to meet me at the base of this hill. Alone."
"Affirmative."
Ben made his way down the hill and sat down on a log. He rolled a cigarette and waited. A few minutes passed before a young lieutenant walked up to Ben. The young officer paled when he recognized who he was about to address.
"Sir ..." he stammered.
"Be quiet," Ben told him. "And listen to me. First of all, you're very lucky to be alive. Secondly, your self-appointed president is a nut..."
The young officer's eyes narrowed at that, but he remained silent
"If you have any sense at all, you'll quietly take some sort of emergency leave and disappear. Move to the mountains and keep your head down until this civil war is over. And we'll win it, boy, don't have any illusions about that."
"You can't win it, General. We have the might of the United States government behind us. A nation divided cannot stand."
"How original," Ben said.
Ben stared at the young man for a moment, realizing the officer had been so thoroughly indoctrinated, probably beginning at a very early age-brainwashed might be a better term-nothing he said to him was going to get through.
Ben shrugged his shoulders. "All right, son. Have it your way. Leave your weapons, take your wounded, and get back to your lines. We'll radio our gunships not to attack you,
