Part 11 (2/2)
A fat, obviously well-fed and well-cared-for man was shoved in front of Ben. ”John Stoggen,”
Harris informed him. ”Big buddies with the local IPF major.”
”Would you like to see your buddy now?” Ben asked him.
”Yes,” John said. His voice trembled. He stank of fear.
”All right,” Ben said. ”Excuse me for a moment.
I'll be right back.”
Ben returned in a moment, carrying something in his left hand. He held the dripping head of the major up to John. ”Here's your buddy, now, Stoggen.
Say h.e.l.lo.”
John Stoggen fainted on the tarmac.
Ben tossed the head to one side.
Harris swallowed hard. He had heard that General Ben Raines was one hard-a.s.sed man. Now he knew for certain. ”Stoggen was responsible for the deaths of a lot of good people, General. Men and women.
And a couple of young people, as well.”
”Do what you want to with him,” Ben said. ”I've spoken with several people about you, Harris. They seem to think you're a good man. I'm putting you in charge.
We'll outfit you with our tiger-stripe or lizard cammies. I'll meet with your people in the morning.”
”Yes, sir.” Harris saluted and left.
”General,” a Rebel approached Ben.
”We've just been in contact with Base Camp One.
They want to know if you've ever heard of a Colonel Khamsin?”
”Khamsin? No. Why?”
”Well, sir, it's kind of confusing and not, as yet, confirmed, but a small group of people came to Base One a couple of days ago. They're from south Georgia. They claim that a large force landed in Savannah about a month ago. They're commanded by this Colonel Khamsin.”
”How large a force?”
”About forty to fifty thousand men.”
Ben stood stunned for a moment. ”Forty or fifty thousand?”
”Yes, sir.”
”They must be mistaken. Do you have any idea how many s.h.i.+ps it would take to transport that many men and supplies?”
”No, sir.”
”I don't believe there are that many s.h.i.+ps still seaworthy, anywhere. Khamsin,” Ben said.
”Yes, sir. The people said it means a hot wind.”
”Wonderful,” Ben said drily. ”Back in 1941, it was a divine wind. Now sixty years later we have a hot wind to contend with.”
”Divine wind, sir?” ”Pearl Harbor, son.”
”I ... don't know that I ever heard of that place, sir.”
Ben smiled. ”Well, believe it or not, I wasn't born then either, son. But I do know a little something about history.”
”Yes, sir.”
”Get Base One on the scrambler. Tell them I said to send out some recon teams; try to find out what in the h.e.l.l is going on down in Georgia.”
”Yes, sir.” He saluted and left.
Ben looked for his XO. ”Let's get this airport cleaned up and the bodies disposed of ...”
A shot cut the darkness.
Ben had a hunch that John Stoggen had collaborated his last.
”... Get Cecil on the horn and have him get our pilots back here to ferry these planes out.
Let's start inventorying supplies and moving it out for s.h.i.+pment back and caching in this part of the country.”
”Yes, sir.”
Sylvia came to stand by Ben's side. ”A hot wind, Ben?”
”That's what the man said.” ”Forty or fifty thousand troops, Ben?”
”That's what the man said.”
”Ben, we can't fight that many troops.”
”Something tells me we're going to have to do it, kid.”
Chapter.
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