Ambush in the Ashes

by William W. Johnstone

  “Sure, General Ben,” Anna said. “And an hour after we were reported missing, every ’copter and plane in North Africa would be up looking for us, in addition to hundreds of troops and eighteen highly pissed-off batt coms.”

  “Well, it was just a thought.”

  “Speaking of Thermopolis,” Corrie said. “I just spoke with him. The subject was Emil Hite.”

  “Do I have to hear this?”

  “Yes. Emil and his followers are now wearing the traditional dress uniform of the French Foreign Legion, complete with kepi.”

  “Where the hell did they get those?”

  “Therm says he thinks they brought them over from the SUSA.”

  “Where the hell did they get them over there?”

  “I don’t know. But Emil is quite a sight to see, so says Therm.”

  “I hope we’re spared that sight.”

  “He’s carrying a sword,” Corrie added with a smile.

  “I don’t want to hear any more.”

  Laughing, the team left Ben’s office and Ben stood by the window for a time, staring out. Then he smiled, thinking about Emil and the many antics the little con artist had pulled over the years. Ben’s smile widened when he thought about the thousand miles that separated them.

  The last American leaving Casablanca shipped out on the evening before Ben’s 1 Batt was due to pull out of the city, heading for Marrakech. There were several dozen Europeans sailing with the Americans. They chose not to return to Europe, preferring to take their chances in America instead. Scouts had reported that Safri was burning out of control, deliberately set ablaze by the gangs after looting the city. The Rebels would head for Marrakech, then over to the coastal city of Essaouira. After that? . . . it all depended on what the Scouts, working far ahead of the main column, reported back.

  Ben had placed Paula Preston in the center of the column, with the medical personnel. She and Dr. Chase had hit it off from the first, and it kept her out of Ben’s way.

  The Rebels did not see one living soul between Casablanca and Marrakech. They passed through a few long-deserted villages, and occasionally spotted the bleached bones of animals and humans, but nothing else.

  “Scouts are reporting farming going on in the Haouz Plain,” Corrie reported. “And the city has a home guard that have successfully battled the gangs. They’ve also kept the population down to a controllable level, one they could manage to feed, to one degree or another. But they’re desperately short of medical supplies.”

  “What kind of shape is the airport in?”

  “Clear and ready for traffic. Six klicks west of the city. Scouts are there now.”

  “Head for airport, Coop.”

  “On our way, boss.”

  “Scouts have home guard directing us around the city,” Corrie said.

  Ben said, “Corrie, have the Scouts alert the commanders of the home guard and the officials of the city that the airport will be where I’ll set up my CP. I would like to meet with them as soon as possible.”

  “Right, boss.”

  “And the city’s doctors, as well.”

  “Ten-four, boss,” Corrie said, a smile curving her lips. She had already done all that. Corrie knew how to stay a few steps ahead of Ben. The team had been together so long, they could usually anticipate the other’s moves.

  As the column began approaching the far outskirts of the city, there were burned out hulks of vehicles and houses either burned or pocked with bullet holes.

  “I don’t see any brass twinkling in the sunlight,” Beth observed.

  “They’re picking it up for reloading,” Ben said. “By now they must be desperately short of gunpowder and lead . . . and everything else needed for survival.”

  They were, as Ben soon discovered.

  A CP had been set up for him about half a mile from the airport, in a reasonably clean and undamaged building. MASH units were swift in setting up, and the cooks were at work within half an hour after the column halted.

  Planes started coming in within the hour, off-loading medical supplies, clothing, and food.

  “We could have held out for perhaps another month, General,” the commander of the home guard told Ben, speaking in French-accented English. He was a former army officer, born and reared in the city. “Six weeks max. We’re nearly out of everything.”

  “Who is supplying the gangs, Colonel?” Ben asked.

  “Bottger,” the colonel was quick to reply. “The Nazi bastard’s goal is to control all of Africa. And the truth is, he isn’t promising so much that he can’t deliver. He may be a first class son of a bitch, but he’s a smart one.”

  “What is he promising those who follow him?”

  “Food, medical care, and certain of the more intelligent of them high positions in the governing of their respective nations. And it’s working.”

  “The bastard is smart, isn’t he?”

  “Or he has very good advisors.”

  Ben shook his head. “No. I’ve fought Bottger before. He runs the show, be assured of that. He’s very intelligent, but also very arrogant. And that arrogance is going to be his downfall.”

  “I would very much like to be there when you kill the man, General Raines.”

  “Perhaps you will be, Colonel. Who knows? But one thing is for certain.”

  “Oh?”

  “I didn’t travel all the way to Africa to shake the bastard’s hand.”

  NINE

  While supplies had dwindled to the critical point in the city, the residents were in far better physical shape than their counterparts in the other North African cities Ben and his 1 Batt had visited.

  “When the Great War came, everyone raced off to the port cities seeking a way out,” a local doctor explained to Ben. “They became grossly overcrowded with not enough medicines or food. The sanitation systems were overworked and either poorly maintained or not maintained at all. And that is fertile ground for disease.” The man shrugged his shoulders. “You saw what happened.”

  “Yes, we certainly did. So that’s what they were fleeing from. Well, that’s one mystery solved.” He looked at the doctor. “But won’t the same thing happen here should thousands try to flood your city?”

  “No, General. We won’t permit it. We’ve reached maximum capacity. It’s a terrible thing to say, but some of us have to survive to rebuild. We’ve already sent out hundreds to the smaller towns to start over, and so far, it’s working to a satisfactory degree.”

  “I know the feeling, Doctor. Believe me, I do. It’s hard to turn people away.”

  “But sometimes necessary.”

  “Very much so.”

  The citizens of Marrakech had not allowed their city to turn into a slum or be looted by vandals and thugs. In the face of everything that had happened, they had maintained order and their dignity and pride. That had helped pull them through the years of bad times.

  In every space available, someone was growing a garden. On the outskirts of the city, chickens were being raised in huge numbers. The people of Marrakech were not going to be defeated; they were going to pull out of the ashes of war and prosper.

  The airport stayed busy around the clock, huge cargo planes bringing in supplies for the once-beleaguered city. The railroad leading to the city was useless, for vandals had destroyed miles of track, rendering it inoperable.

  “How about Essaouira?” Ben asked the colonel. “I’ve not yet sent my Scouts over there.”

  “Forget it,” the colonel was blunt. “It’s been looted and sacked so many times it’s only a hulk of what it used to be. Pirates used it for a time, but even they finally abandoned it and moved on, some of them moving on down the coast to Agadir. South from there . . .” He shook his head. “. . . I don’t know. We lost radio contact with the Canary Islands a long time ago. I don’t know what is happening there. Probably pirates have taken over the islands. That would be my guess. But . . . who knows for sure. Allah, alone.”

  “Then I guess Agadir is next on ou
r list of scenic places to visit,” Ben said with a smile.

  “You’ll have a fight on your hands there, General.”

  “It helps to break the monotony, Colonel.”

  The Rebels took a secondary road from Marrakech over to Agadir and were met by Scouts miles from the city.

  “We’ve got a fight coming, General. Pirates occupy the city, and I have never seen a scummier bunch anywhere.”

  “How are they armed?”

  “Light weapons, mostly. We didn’t see any heavy stuff.”

  “Civilians?”

  “Women, mostly. Only a few kids. The women are, well, where I was raised we used to call them road whores.”

  Ben smiled. “I get the picture. Well, I suppose we’d better get busy. We came here to take out the garbage, so let’s do it.”

  “Take out the garbage,” Paula repeated, walking up with Dr. Chase. “What an insensitive phrase to use when one is about to wage war against another human being.”

  Jersey, who had been eating a candy bar, looked at the woman, wrapped up her candy bar and stuck it in her pocket, belched, and walked off.

  Ben turned his head to hide his quick grin. Jersey did not much care for Paula Preston. She was fond of referring to her as “That whiny liberal bitch.”

  “That young lady does not like me,” Paula said. “And I cannot imagine why.”

  “You’re a politically correct liberal,” Ben informed her. “That’s why.”

  “I certainly am,” she replied indignantly. “And there is something the matter with that?”

  “Paula, this is neither the time nor the place to discuss it. I am about to start an assault on that town.”

  “Aren’t you going to ask them to surrender?”

  Ben sighed. “No, Paula. I was not planning on asking them to surrender.”

  “Well!” she huffed up. “I think . . .”

  “Lamar, would you please take this woman to the rear of the column?” Ben had lost his patience. “We are about to move in and if those pirates in the town have mortars, it’s going to get very dangerous up here.”

  “Of course, Ben.” Lamar took Paula’s arm and gently but firmly led her away.

  “That woman is a fruitcake,” Beth muttered.

  “Yeah, boss,” Cooper said. “How come we always get stuck with the yoyos?”

  Ben smiled, his quick burst of temper fading as rapidly as it came. “I suppose the best answer to that is the one the prostitute gave when a customer asked her how she ever got in the business.” Ben chuckled. “Just lucky, I guess.”

  The pirates had no stomach for a fight against professionals. Before the Rebels could even move into position, the pirates were scrambling for their boats and attempting to head out to sea.

  They didn’t get very far.

  Rebel helicopter gunships had been hovering just out of sight and sound of the small city. When the pirate ships were just out of the harbor, the pirates thinking they had gotten clear, the gunships swooped in, low and fast and deadly, machine-gun and cannon and rocket fire rocking and rolling. The harbor became a watery grave for the pirates, who learned a hard lesson about the Rebels that day: They gave no quarter and asked for none. War was not a game to them . . . it was a profession.

  “Send teams out to scuttle those boats still floating,” Ben ordered. “Clear the harbor. We’re going to need it.”

  “We’ve got a few prisoners,” Corrie said, after acknowledging Ben’s orders and transmitting them.

  “Bring the officers to me.”

  The pirates, Ben surmised, had spent their youth watching too many old pirate movies; they obviously envisioned themselves as real swashbucklers: Earrings in both ears, bandannas around their heads, tattoos on every available patch of skin.

  “They all speak English,” Jersey informed him.

  Ben looked at the pirates and then laughed at them. “Which one of you is Tyrone Power and who is Errol Flynn?” he asked.

  The four men scowled at him.

  Beth came in and laid a piece of paper on the table Ben was using for a desk. Ben read it, his expression changing into a deep frown. He glanced up at the men. “Which one of you gave the orders to slaughter the civilians before you tried to sail out?”

  The pirates all grinned. One hawked up phlegm and spat on the floor.

  Ben nonchalantly lifted a pistol from his desk and shot the spitter in the knee. The pirate hit the floor, howling in pain, both hands holding onto his bloody and ruined knee.

  The others started jabbering in a mixture of languages, all pointing at the other.

  “It’s a slaughterhouse in town, boss,” Cooper said, stepping into the room. He gave no more than a cursory glance at the man screaming on the floor. “These bastards killed all the old people. Shot them, hanged them, and killed them in other ways too disgusting to mention.”

  “Kids?”

  “Only a few kids in town, boss. Some of the older people left alive said most of the kids were seized along with the young women several months ago and sold.”

  “Any idea where?”

  Cooper shook his head.

  Paula stepped onto the porch of the home. She heard the squalling and rushed into the house. She pulled up short at the sight of the man writhing in pain on the floor. “My God!” she blurted. “What’s happened here?”

  “I shot him,” Ben told her. “And I’m about to hang these others. What do you want, Paula?”

  “You’re going to hang them?”

  “Yes. You want to watch?”

  “You’re not serious!”

  Jersey laughed at her.

  Paula’s eyes narrowed in anger. “You can’t just hang these men, Ben. Not without a trial.”

  “You wanna bet?”

  Ben thought Paula would barf all over her combat boots when he hanged the pirates, including the man with the busted knee.

  “Eased his pain,” Ben said, looking at the pirate swinging from a makeshift gallows. “All right, let’s prowl the town and see what we have.”

  Death.

  The elderly had been shot and hanged and burned alive and tortured to death and killed in every manner a criminal degenerate mind could dream up . . . for sport, their bodies left to rot under the sun. The stench was overpowering.

  “Get the troops into protective gear and clear these bodies from the streets,” Ben ordered. “Before Dr. Chase starts jumping up and down and screaming.”

  “I do not jump up and down, Raines,” Lamar said, walking up behind Ben and team. “However, I might raise my voice from time to time.”

  “Where is Paula Pureheart?” Ben asked.

  Chase sighed, feigning great patience. “The lady had a very gentle upbringing, Raines. She is just not accustomed to your crudeness and vulgarity.”

  “Yeah, Lamar. Right. Her ancestors came over on the Mayflower and all that.”

  “That is probably true, Raines.”

  “Mine were here first,” Jersey said with a smile. She put one hand on her hip and with great British affectation, said, “I’m quite the lay-dy.”

  Chase could not hide his grin. He shook his head and said, “What a bunch of characters. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do. Good-bye.”

  Lamar gone to oversee the setting up of his MASH units, Ben said, “Okay. Let’s find me a temporary CP. Down by the port area. We’re going to have ships coming in shortly with supplies and more water trucks. Not long after we leave here, we’re going to have one hell of a long, dry pull ahead of us.”

  Agadir had once boasted a population of over a hundred thousand. Now there were approximately five thousand people left in the city, mostly older women.

  “Any able-bodied man was taken and sold,” Rebel intelligence told Ben.

  “And no idea where?”

  “None, General.”

  “What about the Canary Islands. Anything firm yet?”

  “Not really. We know it was a haven for pirates for a time. Then for some reason—as yet unknow
n—the pirates left the islands. They didn’t leave much behind them.”

  “No communications at all from the islands?”

  “Nothing. Not a peep. Flyovers show many of the cities and towns on the islands have been destroyed by fires. We don’t know if they were deliberate or accidental.”

  “But the flyovers can detect nothing that would pose a threat to us.”

  “That’s correct, sir.”

  “Very well. Thank you.” The briefing over, Anna asked, “We going to visit those islands, General Ben?”

  “Not this time, Anna. We don’t need them for any base, and if they don’t pose any threat there is no point in going.”

  “No people over there?” she asked.

  “Heatseekers show very few of them.”

  “So where do we head next?”

  There are lots of towns and little villages between here and Laayoune, Anna. And then . . . we’re in the desert, into Mauritania and crossing the Tropic of Cancer.”

  “Not much along the way, huh?”

  “Not much. Not once we get away from the coast.” Ben looked out the window: black smoke was drifting lazily toward the blue of the sky. The troops were burning the bodies, for the flatbed trucks carrying the earth-moving equipment had not yet reached the main column. They were about a half a day behind, accompanied by tanks and a company of heavily armed Rebels. Many of the bodies were so badly decomposed Dr. Chase took one look and ordered them all burned immediately.

  “I wonder if it’s going to be this way all the way down to Bottger’s territory?” Corrie asked, standing with Ben by the window.

  “Worse, probably. The further south we go the more populated the land. What about the other battalions?”

  “We seem to be catching the worst of it, boss. All the battalions are reporting burying or burning bodies, but not as many as we’ve found. Ike says Egypt was a piece of cake, no trouble at all there. He’s going to hug the coast through the Sudan and Eritrea.”

  “Nothing new after we received that report?”

  “Nothing new.”