Part 29 (2/2)

”Yes, sir. I think there's more to it than that, but that-from our point of view-will be enough. If the PGSS lose control of Dallas and Fort Worth we will die on the vine here.”

Western Currency Facility, Fort Worth, Texas We could just leave them to die on the vine, thought Sawyers. They're not blocking anything. The facility is not that important really, not anymore. It's just a symbol. They can't have food for more than a few more weeks.

But, though Sawyers had tried to have the a.s.sault called off, he had been refused at the very highest levels just as he had been refused air support. He had had managed to browbeat the Regular Army into giving him a half battery of self-propelled artillery. managed to browbeat the Regular Army into giving him a half battery of self-propelled artillery.

He really didn't trust them though.

Thus it was that, with heavy heart, Sawyers greeted his subordinates as they filed into his command post for their final orders; orders certain to be final for many of them.

Pecos, Texas Tripp asked, simply, ”Any final questions?” Seeing that there might be, he added, ”And no, I don't mean questions like, 'Why aren't we going to rescue Major Williams and B Company?' That subject is already closed.”

In the greasy and soiled garage turned into an ad hoc command post, Tripps' officers and his sergeant major s.h.i.+fted uncomfortably. They were no happier about leaving Williams and company in the lurch than Tripp was. They had no better answer, no better than Tripp, than to follow their orders and leave the guilt-if guilt it was-to others.

The silence, not so much sullen as sorrowful, built for a full minute before one of the staff captains, the quartermaster, asked, ”Am I to be allowed to commandeer any supplies we might need on the way? Could help, sir.”

”Take what you need. Give them a receipt.”

”Yes, sir.”

Tripp had a platoon of air defense artillery attached to his battalion. ”Sir, can we get any easing of 'Weapons Tight'? My Rolands are good systems, but they need some some time-at least to engage.” time-at least to engage.”

”No, son. Higher authority thinks the Air Force won't engage and the brigade commander thinks he can suck up the Marine's air onto the rest of the brigade. 'Weapons Tight,' it stays.”

The lieutenant raised his eyebrows, lowered his eyes and made a small, annoyed symbol of his mouth. But he answered only, ”Sir.”

Western Currency Facility, Fort Worth, Texas ”And the condemned ate a hearty last meal,” joked Davis as he and the other officers feasted on such rare and costly delicacies as packaged bread, undifferentiated meat, nuked potatoes, and squeezie cheese.

Almost all chuckled though the humor was plainly forced. James alone did not chuckle. He was sick; the doc had diagnosed pneumonia brought on by damage to his lungs during the first attack. James picked at the food with little interest or appet.i.te. His color was pale and he seemed to have lost weight.

Suddenly, seized by a fit of coughing, James put down his plastic fork.

”You okay, bubba?” asked Davis.

”I'll be fine,” he answered, without conviction.

Davis exchanged a look with Williams. No, he won't be fine. No, he won't be fine.

”Captain James, I think maybe you ought to exchange places with the engineer; take over the command post and let him handle the south wall.”

Recovering with difficulty from the fit of coughing, James could only nod his head reluctantly. ”If you say so, boss.”

”I'll leave a good engineer with him,” volunteered Davis.

”He ought to be in the aid station,” insisted the doctor. ”But then again...”

”Doesn't make a whole h.e.l.luva lot of difference, does it, Doc?” countered James.

Chapter Sixteen.

From the transcript at trial: Commonwealth of Virginia v. Alvin Scheer DIRECT EXAMINATION, CONTINUEDBY MR. STENNINGS:.

Q. So it pleased you, did it, Alvin, that Texas wasn't alone anymore?

A. Oh, yessir. Not that I thought New Mexico added much. But I figured it might be important that the governor didn't look so much like some sort of lone wolf like they was trying to paint her.

Q. Sure. I understand how that might be so. So what did you see next, Alvin?

A. Next? Well, next on the TV was the a.s.sault on the currency facility. And those poor b.a.s.t.a.r.ds...pardon my language...they were sure enough alone. I didn't have no TV, like I said before, so I watched it on the TV at a bar near where I was staying. Well, that is I got to see the outside of it anyway. I had to buy more beer, a lot more, than I really like to drink to stay and watch it through to the end.

Western Currency Facility, Fort Worth, Texas From the heavily sandbagged lookout position on the roof, the sun had not yet begun to peek over the horizon. Down below, to an e+ven greater degree, all was plunged in gloom.

The sentry on duty, Fontaine, heard the sound of diesel engines roaring in the darkness. This was nothing new; since the PGSS had been linked up with their LAVs they had made a habit of moving them frequently at night.

The sound Fontaine heard was a little different though; deeper and fuller. He decided to risk a look. Straining his eyes to make out the indistinct silhouettes he concentrated...

”Holy s.h.i.+t!”

In a flash Fontaine had ripped the field telephone from its cradle. He began frantically twisting the crank that caused a buzzer on a similar phone deep within the building to come to life.

”Major Williams, here.”

Fontaine exclaimed, with panic straining his voice, ”Holy f.u.c.king s.h.i.+t, sir, the PGSS have a battery of self-propelled artillery and they're taking up firing positions across from the south wall now!”

Even as Fontaine replaced the handset on the cradle a blossom of fire erupted from the centermost gun.

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