The single lantern in the room was quickly extinguished and everybody grabbed weapons.
“The buildings across the street are secure,” Ben said. “With Rebels on the roofs. So it’s not going to come from that direction. We’ve got the hole plugged in this building, so that’s out. They probably know that I’m using this building for a CP because of the heavy security all around it. Let’s don’t kid ourselves that they aren’t watching us.”
“Maybe we missed a hole,” Linda said softly.
Those quiet spoken words chilled them all. Ben said, “Everybody on full alert. Make sure every closet door on the ground floor is securely locked... aw, to hell with it. We don’t have time for that. Corrie, get everyone ready for a fight.”
Jersey grinned at him in the darkness. “Hell, boss, we’re always ready for that.”
The Rebels waited in darkness, on full alert for several hours, with lookouts using heatseeking portable scopes detecting movement all around them. But nothing happened.
“Stand down to level two,” Ben ordered. “Let’s every other person get some sleep for a few hours, then wake the person next to them. The bastards are trying to exhaust us, keep us up all night so we’ll be dull in the morning. Jersey, Corrie, and me will sleep for a few hours. Then we’ll spell you others. Hit the sack, gang.”
Ben’s eyes popped open three hours later. He never slept for more than five hours anyway, so the loss of a couple of hours affected him little. Jersey and Corrie slept on, heads on their packs and using ponchos for blankets. Ben pointed to Linda, Beth, and Cooper, then pointed to the floor. They didn’t need a second invitation.
He stood and stretched the kinks out of his muscles and joints and then picked up his M-14 and quietly slipped out of the room and made his way to the ground floor, being careful not to step on the sprawling Rebels asleep on the hall floor. He walked to the front of the building and looked outside.
“Same crap all night long, General,” the guard told him. “Moving around just enough to make us think something big is about to pop.”
“It’ll probably pop at dawn.”
Ben walked soundlessly to the rear of the building and spoke to the guards in the main hall, where a back door used to be. The opening had been secured with heavy timbers from the wreckage and behind that barrier was a heavy machine gun.
“Just a few minutes before dawn, get everybody up and let them get the kinks out and use the toilet,” Ben told the sergeant in charge. “I think the creeps are going to come at us hard just about then.”
Ben looked around at the sound of boots. Jersey and Corrie stood in the hall, glaring at him. He grinned at them. “Slipped away, didn’t I?”
“You get lucky every now and then,” Jersey conceded, an edge to her voice that silently stated he wouldn’t do it again.
“Fresh coffee’s ready, General,” a Rebel said. “Third door on your right.”
“Thanks. Where’s the toilet area?”
“Porta-Pots up the hall and to your left.”
Corrie and Jersey fell in step with him. “You’re not going to the john with me,” Ben told them.
“We’ll wait outside,” Jersey said.
A few moments later, Ben tapped on the closed door. “Coming in for coffee,” he said, giving those inside time to cut down the lantern.
The three got their coffee and packets of rations and sat down on the floor in the hall.
Ben checked the time. Four-thirty. He had noted that the night was cloudy and misting rain. A perfect setting for an attack from the Believers. He ate his breakfast rations, had a second cup of coffee, and waited with the others for the graying of dawn.
“They’re massing out there, General,” Ben received the word.
“Thanks. Get everybody up. Pass the word to all batt coms, Corrie. And if anyone finds an old can of Lysol, save it. I think the creepies are going to get pretty damn close this go-around.”
“Yekk!” Jersey said.
The men and women of the Free Irish had been stationed at strategic spots all around the city, and other units of the Free Irish were still engaged in some fairly heavy mopping up all over their country. There was a lot of retribution killing going on against those who’d collaborated with the enemy, and Ben did not want his Rebels taking any part in that. Let the Irish deal with the Irish.
All the Rebels had drawn ammo and other replacement equipment before settling down for the night, so they were ready. Water and ration trucks had come and gone, so they were in good shape there. The tank crews – freshly resupplied – had crawled back into their armor and buttoned down tight. Now all the Rebels had to do was hold what they had taken.
A light but steady rain had begun, and that would work to the advantage of the Believers, covering the sounds of their furtive advance.
“It’ll also wash some of the stink off of the bastards,” Cooper pointed out.
“Sometimes, Cooper,” Jersey said with a wicked little smile as she continued harassing her friend, “you do make sense.”
“Thanks, Shorty,” Cooper responded. “Did you take the vitamin in your ration packet? It’ll help you grow up to be big and strong like me.”
Ben chuckled. “He got you there, Jersey.”
“I won’t forget,” she said.
Cooper moved a few more feet away from her.
Ben and his team had moved into an empty room that overlooked an intersection on the west side of the city proper. Ben figured the main thrust of the attack would come from the eastern section, the area that had not yet been cleared. The no-man’s-land.
Ben laid clips for his old Thunder Lizard to his right and grenades to his left. “Helmets on and body armor checked, Corrie. Pass the word.”
“Tell the Boss Eagle that all his little chickies are buttoned up nice and proper,” Ike radioed.
“Tell Ike that the proper term is eaglets,” Ben said.
Corrie did and then said, “I most certainly will not tell the general that, sir!”
Ben laughed and then caught movement in the gray mist across the street. “Heads up, people! Here they come.”
A rocket fired by the creepies impacted against the outside of the ground floor wall and knocked a large hole in the building. Creepies began pouring in gray-clad hordes across the rain-slick street. By the time a few made it inside the building the street was even slicker with blood.
“Here we go, gang!” Beth shouted.
Rebels on the ground floor chopped the Believers down and tossed their stinking bodies back outside, then moved furniture and filing cabinets to cover the rocket-blasted hole in the wall.
“All units reporting extremely heavy fighting,” Corrie shouted above the din of battle. “Everybody is holding.”
Ben sighted in a running creep and cut him down. “Thermopolis and Buddy?”
“Completely cut off, sir. They have very heavy fighting on all sides.”
“Shit!” Ben said. “Okay, Corrie. Have units of the Free Irish move in now and give them some relief from the west. That’ll box in those creeps. When that’s accomplished, have the Free Irish move north and south for a few blocks, then swing east in a pincher movement.”
“Right, sir.”
If it works, Ben thought, that will seal off those creeps in behind Therm’s Eight Battalion, with the Free Irish to the north and south, Therm to the west, and us to the east.
If it works.
Ben put those thoughts out of his mind and returned to the battle that was raging on the streets below. The sky had brightened somewhat, even though the rain had picked up and was really driving down. Ben could see the creeps as they darted and worked their way closer to the intersection.
“Beth!” he shouted, making up his mind. “Tell the tank commanders to start demolishing the buildings on either side of the street east of this position. Tell them to use Willie Peter and HE. With this rain, the fires can be contained. I want to give us some breathing room and knock out any places those creeps can use for hid
ey-holes. Pass those orders all up and down this battalion.”
Ben used his walkie-talkie. “One and Three Battalion mortar crews, back up one block, set up, and drop them in directly in front of you. HE and WP. Don’t drop any on my head, please.”
Thirty minutes later, the tanks and mortars had set the area directly in front of the Rebels’ long thin line blazing. Creepies ran from the rubble with their clothing on fire. The Rebels chopped them down as relentlessly as the cold rain fell.
“Where are the Free Irish?” Ben asked Corrie.
“Exactly where you planned on them being, sir. They have the creepies boxed, and Therm and Buddy are closing the lid now.”
“Order second and fourth companies of this battalion to fall back and nail the coffin shut, please. First and third companies spread out and pick up the slack.”
The firing from the creepie side had all but stopped. For two blocks up there was no place for them to hide, except in bombed-out and burning buildings.
Ben and his team picked up their brass from the floor and put them in a sack. Ben took a sip of water, then sat down on the floor and rolled a cigarette. He smoked for a moment, then said, “Ike and the others, Corrie?”
“The creepies are falling back, sir.”
Ben nodded and slowly finished his cigarette. He rose to his boots and picked up his M-14. “Let’s go see what we’ve got downstairs.”
The Rebels on the ground floor were cleaning up the mess caused by the battle. To a person their faces and hands were grimy from dust and gunsmoke. All expended brass would be picked up for reloading. One Rebel was wounded, and that was only a slight flesh wound in the arm. Several had fierce headaches caused by their helmets taking a round that bounced off, and a lot of them had chest bruises caused by enemy rounds impacting with body armor. But they were alive.
Upon sighting Ben, several Rebels moved toward open doors and blocked them. Ben hid a smile and said nothing about the obvious move. “Scouts out into the no-man’s-land,” he ordered. “Let’s see how far the creeps are retreating.”
“We’re making fresh coffee now, sir,” a young Rebel told him. “Be ready in about five minutes.”
“Fine. Sounds good.” Ben moved to what remained of a window and looked out at the smoking, burning no-man’s-land. He checked his watch and was surprised to find it was still very early in the morning. He walked around the interior of the building, speaking to his Rebels. First platoon, Company A, was always assigned to Ben. They were ordered assigned to him by all the battalion commanders, and Ben accepted it as something he had no power to change. And there were few faces in the bunch that had not been with Ben for a long time. They were seasoned veterans of five hundred or more battles, and to a person, without hesitation, they would die to keep Ben Raines alive.
Ben took a snack pack from his kit and grimaced at the contents. It was some sort of high protein, high vitamin goop dreamed up by the lab boys and girls back at Base Camp One. And it tasted pretty much like he suspected camel shit would taste. But he ate it. Several of the Rebels laughed at the expression on their general’s face. That was one of the things that drew people close to Ben like steel shavings to a magnet: Ben ate the same rations as anyone else. Many times Ben slept on the same cold bare floor as they did, or huddled under a poncho in a chilling, pouring rain. He drank the same lousy coffee they did, and insisted that all his commanders receive or demand no better treatment than those serving under them.
“Three battalion of Free Irish are in from clearing Cork,” Corrie told him.
“Tell them to assume the stations that One and Two Battalions vacated on the outskirts of town, please. Have Pat and his people join us, and Bobby’s Two Battalion to link up with Dan. We’re going to shove these bastards right into the Irish Sea.”
“Right on!” a Rebel yelled.
“I bet Thermopolis reintroduced that phrase,” Ben muttered. “Just to bug me.”
Thirteen
Scouts reported that the creepies had moved completely out of the Liberty District and had set up a defense line along Clanbrassil and New Streets.
“Those bastards,” Ben said.
“What’s the matter?” Linda asked.
“Saint Patrick’s Cathedral is located on that street. So is Christ Church Cathedral, and Dublin Castle is right behind Saint Patrick’s. They know damn well we won’t destroy those places. So it’s about to get low-down and dirty mean. Well, that’s fine with me. That’s the way I like to fight. Low-down and mad-dog mean. Are Danjou’s people still holding the Grattan Bridge?”
“Yes, sir. As well as the O’Connell Bridge. Those are the only bridges intact north of us.”
“Tell Danjou to beef up his people at the bridges. We’ve got to hold them. How about those bridges south of us?”
“Grand Canal and Lesson are still intact – so far as we know – but we have no way of getting to them.”
“All right,” Ben said, adjusting his battle harness. “Let’s start the squeeze.”
Two, Four, and Seven Battalions began putting the pressure on from the north. Five, Six, and Nine Battalions began pushing from the south. Ben’s One Battalion, Therm’s Eight, and contingents of the Free Irish began the drive east.
With MBTs and Dusters spearheading, the Rebels moved through the district called the Liberties. They moved up to within one block of the creepies’ heavily fortified battle lines. To the north and south, the creepies had tightened up, pulling back into Dublin proper. For now, it was a small arms battle, the heaviest weapons being used on the Rebel side, the big .50 caliber machine guns.
Not so for the Believers. They were using mortars and rocket launchers against their enemy.
Ben’s patrol boats out in the harbor reported that no creeps had tried to leave by the sea. Believer leaders, called Judges, had certainly seen the armed patrol boats and had watched the airborne attack against the ships carrying Jack Hunt and his army and realized that to try to escape by the sea would be futile.
The stage was set for an all-out assault against the creeps; but Ben was hesitant to throw his people into what would surely be a nasty and bloody confrontation. To smash into the creepies without heavy artillery softening them up first would take a lot of Rebel lives. And even though he had the okay from the Free Irish to destroy the city, Ben did not want to do that. He had an idea, but wasn’t sure if he could pull it off. He called for a meeting of all commanders.
“Check this out, all of you,” Ben said. “I want your opinions on this plan. Therm, you and Emil and the ships’ captains of the Free Irish get down to Wexford and get the big ships ready to sail. When you have them ready, we make a big show about pulling troops out from all sides. All kinds of trucks and big guns will be leaving the battle zone, all of them heading south, toward Wexford. While that is going on, Ike’s SEAL teams, Dan’s Special Ops people, and Striganov’s Spetsnaz teams will be gearing up to make a night crossing of the canals leading into downtown Dublin ...”
Ike, Dan, and Georgi Striganov started grinning.
“... If the creeps behave as I think they will, they’ll think we’re about to attack from the sea and start pulling a lot of people back to defend the harbor. The harbor can be rebuilt. I want every type of heavy gun we can cram on the decks of those ships – 81mm mortars, recoilless rifles, 40mm cannon. I want our helicopter gunships armed with everything they can fly with. When the special teams are in place – and you’re going to have to carry it all with you, people, I won’t have any way to resupply you – the ships’ captains will make a big show of tossing rope ladders over the side and landing craft will start moving up to take on troops. If the creeps take the bait, many of their people will be in the harbor area, ready to defend and repel the enemy that isn’t out there. That’s when the gunships will strike very hard and very quickly, throwing everything they’ve got into the docks and warehouses. Then the guns on ships will take over. By that time, all the special teams will be striking from the rear, and we’ll be hit
ting them from the front. There is it.”
“I’ll start getting the ships ready to sail,” Therm said, standing up.
“We’ll start getting our teams geared up,” Ike said.
“And start laying out plans on where to place the special teams,” Georgi said.
“Wait a minute!” Ben said. “Settle down. None of you have arguments?”
“Argue about what, Dad?” Tina asked him. “You’ve just outlined what the Rebels do best. Mean, sneaky, dirty, nasty, underhanded, unconventional tactics.”
“I certainly am glad I took after my grandfather,” Buddy said, an innocent look on his face. “I would never, ever, come up with such a vicious plan as that.”
Amid the laughter, Ben picked up a helmet and threw it at his son.
The creepies were thoroughly confused. All attacks by the Rebels had ceased, except for some occasional and ineffective small arms fire, and towed artillery and trucks were pulling out. Then they began receiving reports from what few sympathizers they had left along the coast that ships were being readied for sail out of the port of Wexford.
“I was right all along,” a Judge said smugly. “I told you all repeatedly that Ben Raines would not destroy the landmarks and churches. I told you he would finally launch an attack from the sea.” He chuckled with dark satisfaction and stuffed his mouth full of freshly cut human flesh.
“It’s a trick,” another Judge said. “Ben Raines says one thing and does another. He follows no rulebook.”
“I don’t think it’s a trick,” a third Judge said. “I believe that Ben Raines has seen he cannot take the city without destroying landmarks, so he is going to launch troops from the sea, opening a fourth front. But this fourth front will be the largest. So we must shift people and do it quickly.”
“Let’s vote.”
Five Judges in favor, one against.
“You’re all making a very grave mistake,” the lone dissenter said. “You’re all forgetting that I came out of America last. I have much more experience in fighting the Rebels than any of you. Listen to me, please. Ben Raines is like a shadow in the night. Deceptive. He’ll make you believe you’re seeing something that isn’t there. Anybody who can convince a hippie to take up arms in a fight for order and rules has a glib tongue indeed.”
Terror in the Ashes Page 11
