Part 18 (1/2)

210.

The old soldier by the door had to suppress a chuckle. He despised Ben Raines, but he admired greatly the man's courage and grasp of tactics.

And also how well he played on human egos.

Hoffman was so outraged he could not speak. He sat holding the microphone and sputtered.

Say something, you idiot! Frederich thought. Go ahead, step deeper into the trap General Raines is laying out for you. We had such high hopes for you, Jesus. But we failed to see your frailties. You were too coddled, kept too close to the breast. What you are is not your fault, but ours.

”You are a dead man, Raines,” Hoffman finally found his voice and composure.

Someday, for sure, as all of us must face that long sleep, the old soldier thought. But not by your hands, Jesus. Resist those orders, Generals, Frederich silently urged.

The officer who had left the room returned, his face flushed with excitement. ”Generals Kroesen and Schmidt will be heading south within the hour, Field Marshal,” the officer said, waiting until after Hoffmanhad released the talk key.

”Very good,” Hoffman said, then frowned as Ben's voice once more filled his head.

”Hey, Hoffman!” Ben called rudely. ”Stop playing with your d.i.c.k and talk to me.”

Hoffman clicked off the radio and turned to face his staff officers. ”I will not dignify any remark from that barbarian with a reply.”

Several hundred miles south, Ben grinned and handed the mic to Corrie.

”Did I talk long enough for them to pinpoint our location?”

211.

”They're probably halfway here by now,” Corrie said drily.

Ben laughed and patted her shoulder. ”Well, you said you were getting bored, remember? All right,” Ben said, rubbing his hands together and pacing as he talked. ”Hoffman is going to throw quite a number at us.

He's not going to take any chances on us slipping away this time. He'll throw at least one division and probably two at us. What divisions are closest to us, Colonel Garcia?”

”Hoffman's First division is the nearest. But I'd guess Two and Three divisions will be the ones chosen for this. Commanded by Generals Kroesen and Schmidt. They're professionals.”

”Not SS?”

”No. That is Brodermann. And we wiped out nearly half his troops.” He smiled. ”And he was running a very short division, as you may recall.”

Ben recalled. ”Then for all intents and purposes, the SS troops are but a memory.”

”I would guess that he has perhaps four to six battalions left.”

”Can he rebuild?”

”Possibly. But not too quickly. He chose his people very well, over a period of years. And Brodermann was not among the dead. At least not that we could identify.”

”No. We wouldn't be that lucky, Jorge. All right. We'll say he has five thousand troops left him. That's still a lot of SS c.r.a.p to have looking over our shoulders.”

”I hate those people,” a young captain from Garcia's command said. ”I loathe them.” He shuddered. ”They're cruel and twisted men and women.”

212.

”So were the ones who surfaced seventy-odd years ago,” Ben replied.

”Nothing changes.”

”So what do we do now?” Colonel Garcia asked.

”Why, we wait for the Blacks.h.i.+rts to get here,” Ben said calmly. Then hesmiled and confused the colonel when he said, ”Sort of.”

Ben had forced Hoffman to spread his people all over a front that extended hundreds of miles, and Hoffman had no choice but to move his people around in an oftentimes futile attempt to plug holes. He had been forced to send additional troops north of I-20 to a.s.sist General Jahn in fighting Ike McGowan and his people. Hoffman's supply lines had been stopped cold in South America and whatever supplies he received had to be flown into the airport at San Antonio and trucked out into the field.

Hoffman's grandiose plans to conquer all of North America by fall had been tossed on the sc.r.a.p heap. Ben Raines and his Rebels had stopped him cold in Texas with little hope of getting out anytime soon.

Hoffman had marched into Texas with just under 200,000 troops, and Ben Raines and his rag-tag bands of malcontents had stopped him dead bang.

Now, to make matters worse, many of his troops were walling their eyes like frightened cattle at the mere mention of Ben Raines's name. There had been talk of some old man who called himself the Prophet popping up all over the place and calling down the wrath of G.o.d upon the heads of the invaders.

Nonsense, of course, but many of his troops were getting spooked. And Hoffman did not know how to combat the wild rumors.

213.

And his closer advisor and friend, Hoffman's Uncle Frederich Rosbach, had flown back to South America. Frederich had urged his nephew to abandon his dreams of conquering all of North and South America and return with him. Hoffman, naturally, refused.

One thing Hoffman did know for certain was that when his Second and Third Divisions reached Ben Raines's position in the south of Texas, he would be rid of that b.a.s.t.a.r.d forever.

Hoffman might have felt certain about that, but somebody forgot to tell Ben.

Dawn.

”The enemy columns are proceeding very cautiously,” Corrie said to Ben.

”Placement of vehicles?” Ben asked.

”Strung out wide and using all accessible roads. ETA of advance troops 1300 hours this day.”

”Everybody mounted up and ready to roll?”

”Sitting on ready.”

”From this moment on, maintain tight radio silence. If something has to be transmitted, use burst only.”

”Yes, sir.”

”Let's pack it up and get the h.e.l.l out of here.”

Ben had split his forces, half heading west, the other half east.

Colonel Garcia had stepped aside without a word, knowing this wasGeneral Raines's show.