Part 10 (1/2)

”Now!” Buddy shouted.

The Rebels slammed into the eastern side of Highway 36 with the savagery of hungry piranhas.

The commander of the Blacks.h.i.+rts on the eastern edge of Hoffman's northern push got off one short radio message. Hoffman's face drained of blood and his stomach churned as he read the message, G.o.d help us all.

127.

Chapter Eleven.The Rebels were all over the Blacks.h.i.+rts before they could reposition from west to east. This was b.l.o.o.d.y and brutal hand to hand fighting, something the Rebels had perfected over the long years of war. This was pistol and knife and hatchet and club warfare. Back to the raw basics.The Blacks.h.i.+rts had never, ever, encountered such savagery. The Rebels did not come screaming over the top-they came like deadly silent wraiths and it was that very silence that panicked and broke the enemy line.

The disciplined soldiers of Hoffman's army looked at outlaw bikers, bearded and leathered and tattooed, swinging deadly barbed lengths of chain; their female counterparts armed with silenced machine-pistols, spitting out quiet death.

The soldiers of Hoffman broke and fled for their lives, running toward the west. Those that chose to stay and fight died. The Rebels took no prisoners.

The Rebels smashed through the thin lines and split up, working north and south along the rutted old highway. They captured hundreds of a.s.sault rifles, fine 128.

weapons, and thousands of rounds of ammunition. They captured machine guns and light vehicles and mortars and cases and cases of mortar rounds. They captured hundreds of boxes of field rations, which to the Rebels, after years of eating their own highly nutritious but c.r.a.ppy-tasting goop, were like gourmet meals.

The Blacks.h.i.+rts even abandoned half a dozen of their big battle tanks-the crews running off into the night. The Rebels promptly cranked them up and drove off, along with the trucks and other light vehicles, after loading them with guns, ammo, food, mortars, boots, and anything else the Rebels felt they could use.

The Rebels did not come out of the battle unscathed. They had their dead to carry off and bury and their wounded to transport to Chase's MASH units. But the Blacks.h.i.+rts suffered terrible losses. All who did not run off were killed and many of those who tried to flee were gunned down.

It was wasn't a matter of being callous. It was merely a question of chopping down the enemy to a more manageable size. Every Blacks.h.i.+rt killed now was one less the Rebels would have to someday fight.

By the time troops from Hoffman's Eighth Division got over to the battle site, there was nothing left but the silence of the dead.

General Ramos Schleyer, CG of the Eighth Division, stood in the center of the carnage and was stunned speechless. The dead were sprawled everywhere. The Rebels left behind no wounded.

”Barbarians!” Ramos hissed, finally finding his voice. ”Filthy savages.”

Strange words from a man who took great delight in raping young girls, violating young boys, and killing anyone who did not agree with his political 129.

views. He pointed his riding crop at an aide. ”The Rebels will pay dearly for this, Hugo. Dearly, I say. Mark my words.”

”Field Marshal Hoffman, sir,” a radioman handed the general the field phone.

”No, sir,” Ramos said, in reply to Hoffman's very direct question. ”Theywere wiped out to the last man. The filthy barbarous b.a.s.t.a.r.ds left no wounded behind.” He listened for a moment. ”No, sir. The Rebels took all the equipment. Guns, vehicles, boots, food, mortars, tanks, gasoline ...

everything.” Again, he listened. ”Yes, sir. I will see that our people are properly buried. I have chaplains coming in now to insure proper burials.”

After Hoffman had broken the connection, Ramos said, ”Get me General Krosen at the Second Division. We have to make plans to rid ourselves of Ben Raines. That and nothing else, must be top priority. We have to convince Field Marshal Hoffman of that. We must.”

”We are now dirty filthy barbarians,” Corrie told Ben, who was sitting behind his desk, his stocking feet propped up.

He smiled and lifted his mug of coffee at her. ”I'm glad to hear it.

Obviously, Buddy's report was factual. What officer called us that?”

”The CG of the Eighth Division. General Ramos Schleyer. He is furious and saying that he will have your head on a pole for this atrocity.”

”That would be unpleasant,” Ben said. ”What else?”

”We've decoded some rather odd transmissions and cryptography is trying to make sense out of them now.”

130.

”And they all concern me, right?” Ben asked, a strange smile on his lips.

”Yes,” Corrie said. ”How did you know?”

”like so many others we've faced, Corrie, the leaders of the Blacks.h.i.+rts believe that if I'm killed, the Rebel movement would collapse. They just can't see that I'm merely a part of it. I'm not the whole. But we're going to have to be careful from now on. For if the generals convince Hoffman of their theory, a.s.sa.s.sins will be coming out of the woodwork after me.” His eyes swept the room, lingering for a moment, touching all the members of his team. ”And that includes all of you. And don't ever forget that.”

”Well, if that's the case, Ike oughta be storming in here at any moment,” Jersey predicted. ”That ol' mother hen will be wanting to relocate you up way up in North Canada.”

Ben smiled. Jersey had pegged the ex-SEAL correctly. Ike was very protective of Ben. As soon as the decoding experts did their work and reported the news to all Rebel commanders, Ike would be rolling in and raising h.e.l.l about Ben's safety.

”The Blacks.h.i.+rt generals are requesting a meeting with Hoffman,” Corrie called out. ”They want to meet first thing in the morning at Hoffman's First Division HQ,”

”It's started,” Ben said. ”Fine. That will give us another day to s.h.i.+ft troops around and make plans. I ...”

”General Ike on the horn, sir,” Corrie said. ”He says it's very important.”

Ben laughed and walked to the radio. ”I bet it is,” he said, taking themic as Corrie flipped over to speaker.

131.

Ike was already yelling. ”G.o.dd.a.m.nit, Ben. Pack it up and get gone from there.”

If they were not transmitting from a ”fixed” base, to improve the range of communications, and to prevent the enemy from getting any accurate fix on locations, in the field the Rebels used a very upgraded version of the suitcase repeater.

”Where would you have me go, Ike?”

”Away from where you are,” Ike said simply, calming down.

”That's not a bad idea,” Ben said, but not to Ike. ”But we'll do it on the Q.T.” To Ike: ”No, Ike, I think we'll just stay put for a time. But I will take your very fine suggestion under advis.e.m.e.nt.”

Ben never said things like ”taking your very fine suggestion under advis.e.m.e.nt,” and Ben knew Ike would grab the hidden message immediately.

”No way I can convince you, huh?” Ike said, a very subtle change in his voice.

”Not a chance, Ike.” Ben knew other Rebel communications people would be monitoring the transmissions and they would put it all together.

To insure that everybody knew what was going on, Ben and Ike began conversing in double-talk, using terms that would lead the Blacks.h.i.+rts-if they could unscramble the transmissions-to believe that Ben was staying in his present location.

When they had spoken enough gobbledygook to tip off even the sleepiest of Rebel communications operators, Ben hooked the mic and said, ”Pack it up, people. We're pulling out.”

Within minutes, the team had packed their gear and 132.

were heading out. They rolled into Dr. Chase's HQ a few hours later.

”Get your MASH units down and moving,” Ben told the chief of medicine.