Part 38 (2/2)
”What do we do now, General?” a senior sergeant asked.
”We follow Ben Raines,” Cecil said.
A low murmur spread around the room. Cecil let them talk for a moment before waving them silent.
”Rebels,” he announced. ”Let me try to explain. All that has happened over the past week was just a ruse. A plan of Ben's to pull Sam Hartline and his army into our territory. Ben is very much alive and well.”
”No!” a Rebel shouted. ”That's not true.”
Ben walked out of a side room, his appearance bringing the room to a dead silence.
He climbed up beside Cecil and looked at the shock-numbed crowd. ”As you can all clearly see,” he said. ”I am very much alive and doing quite well.”
The Rebels stood and stared at him.
”I apologize for tricking you,” Ben said.
”I'm sorry to play with your emotions in this manner.
But we had to pull Hartline and his people out of their stronghold. We've done that. They're on their way right now. Our forward recon teams report the mercenaries have neared the border and are barreling toward us.” He looked at Cecil. ”Join your battalion, Cec. Close it off behind us. Good luck.”
The men shook hands and Cecil quickly left the room. A light plane would fly him to his battalion, located on both sides of Interstate 5, near Youreka.
Ben looked back at his Rebels, still staring at him in open-mouthed shock. ”Wait until noon before breaking the news to your sections that I'm still alive.
That will put Hartline and his people south of Cecil's position. They won't be able to turn back even should they hear the news.
”Now you listen to me, people. We've got a hard fight facing us. And it's just beginning. We have no choice in the matter. We have to fight, and we have to win. First against Hartline, then against Colonel Khamsin and his IPA. And we're going to take losses. Plenty of them. Hard losses. We're going to lose loved ones and close friends. But it's either that, or live as slaves. I refuse to bow down to any person. That's why we're Rebels.
”There isn't going to be much rest for us. It's going to be one fight after another, for G.o.d only knows how many years. I'm not looking forward to it, and I know that none of you want to fight for the rest of yourlives.” Ben sighed. ”Maybe someday we can all settle down and live in peace. I have to keep that hope alive. But I, and you, must keep this thought in mind at all times: We are all that stands between freedom and slavery. It's up to us. No one else. Get with your teams and prepare to fight.
Move out!”
The room emptied, with most of the Rebels glancing back over their shoulder to look at Ben.
Ben was calmly folding and tying a cammie bandana around his forehead.
He looked at Colonel Gray. ”Let's do it, Dan.”
Chapter Thirty-five.
The news cut through the camp like a bullet. Even though no member of the Rebel Army that was present when Ben appeared out of the grave had spoken of it, somehow the other Rebels knew.
The somber cloud that had invisibly covered the camp lifted and a fresh new spirit filled the men and women of the Rebels.
Cecil and Dan had already received orders from Ben as to how the attack was to be carried out, and they had informed their people long before Ben made his exit from the grave. Now the camp hummed with a new, fresh melody; a warlike song to be sure, for war was all that many of, these Rebels had ever known, many of them having been with Ben since back in '89.
Ben walked among the Rebels as they feverishly broke camp, moving out to pre-a.s.signed positions.
He spoke to as many as possible, stopping to chat with a few of them.
”This time we finish Sam Hartline, Charlie.”
”You bet, General!”
”Kick-a.s.s-and-take-names time, Wes.”
”Right, General!”
”Watch your b.u.t.t now, Claire. It's time for you and Eddie to be thinking of having some babies.”
”Oh, General!” she blushed. One of Dan Gray's Scouts, Claire was as good a soldier as any in Ben's command.
”Bob, you got your lucky coin with you?”
”d.a.m.n right, General! This time we finish Sam Hartline once and for all, right?”
”That's right, Bob. Simon, you were wounded about two weeks ago. What the h.e.l.l are you doing with this bunch?”
”Gettin' ready to kick the h.e.l.l out of that schtoonk, Hartline, that's what.”
Ben laughed. ”Give him h.e.l.l, Simon.”
And so it went, up and down the lines of trucks and Jeeps and the lines of tiger-stripe or lizard cammied men and women who made up Raines's Rebels.
A thin line, the thought came to Ben. How few of us there are. But we have grown, he thought, his eyes finding the two Georges from Red Bluff and Chico. Harris and his people from Redding. Pete Ho and his bunch from Ukiah. John Dunning and several hundred fighters from Santa Rosa. Some of the newer fighters would be mixed in with Ben's regular Rebels; others would be held in reserve, just behind the lines, to take the place of any Rebels wounded.
Ben watched his people move out. The tanks and artillery had moved out early that morning, when the first news of Hartline's advance reached the base camp.
Lora walked up to him and kicked Ben on the s.h.i.+n.
”Oww! Jesus Christ, Lora. What was that for?”
”It isn't nice to have people think you're dead and gone, Ben Raines. I cried a whole bunch over you.”
”Yeah? Well, you just brought tears to my eyes, too. I guess that makes us even.”
”Oh, yeah. Well ... guess so. Ben?”
”What, Lora?”
”I never did liked Sylvia. Never trusted her.” She slung her carbine and turned to go.
”Wait a minute! Where are you going, Lora?”
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