After several months of bloody fighting, Bruno had called for a meeting in Geneva. There, he had made his racial position clear—the lands he controlled would be his empire forever, and he vowed to fight to the death to defend it, an empire where he would allow no Jews or blacks or any other minorities. By then, his army had risen to almost 3,000,000 men.
And it was in Geneva where Bruno had related that his scientists were developing a serum which caused infertility, which he planned to introduce to the drinking water supply in Africa and Asia, to thin the world’s minority populations.
When the talks grew ugly Bruno’s men staged an attack and captured President Blanton, with a motive—to fake his rescue and win global sympathy. Ben Raines had exposed his plan before he could put it into action.
Since then, he and Raines had become sworn enemies.
Bruno had given Raines an ultimatum: be out of Europe in twenty-four hours, or all-out war would commence. Bruno had no choice but to back up his threat and attack, when Raines ignored the ultimatum.
Bruno’s empire, called the New Federation, all but collapsed. He was driven back across Germany, with high casualties, heading for Russia. Raines cut him off, and Bruno was forced to stage his own suicide, leaving his second in command, General Henrich, to show Raines a body said to be that of Bruno Bottger.
While this delaying tactic was going on Bruno took a hundred thousand of his men and escaped to Africa, to start over.
All this, because of Ben Raines—being forced to quietly rebuild a powerful army, equipped with the best weaponry on earth while in hiding in Pretoria, biding his time until he was ready.
And now, Raines was coming after him again. And again, it seemed nothing could stop him.
Bruno came out of his reverie and spoke to Conreid. “Tell Colonel Walz I want a meeting tonight. Inform General Ligon. Perhaps now it is time to put our germ and chemical weapons to better use from the air. We will see if General Raines and his Rebels are fully prepared for a new type of war.”
Conreid seemed relieved now that Bruno’s anger had passed and he was thinking rationally again. “I will summon Walz and Ligon. I agree. The time has come to put everything to the ultimate test. We cannot withstand any more huge casualties or our weapons stock will be seriously depleted. We have superiority in the air, or so Walz has led us to believe. Let’s test the Rebels in the skies.”
Bruno pored over his maps, then studied recon reports, though they were few and probably grossly inaccurate. He had given up letting others plan what his New World Order armies would do, deciding he could devise his own defense and counterattacks.
Rudolf Hessner looked on from a chair across the desk as did Colonel Walz, General Ligon, and General Conreid, who had arrived only moments ago for the meeting.
“They’ll come from three directions,” Bruno said, talking to himself as much as to the others. “One fork, led by Raines himself and his 501 Brigade, will come from the west, across the southern tip of Nambia, either along the Atlantic coast or across Great Namaland.” He pointed a finger to a spot on the map.
“Our latest reports have Raines turning east. Evidently he is taking the more direct route toward Pretoria, and is planning to cross the Kaokoveld plains in order to make better time.”
Rudolf Hessner spoke up. “That is correct, Herr General Field Marshal. Latest reports show Ike McGowen and the 502 Battalion were slowed in their passage through the Congo area by its dense jungles and constant attacks by our native and mercenary forces. They are quite a ways behind Raines and his 501 Battalion, and should pose no immediate threat to us . . . if we can slow or defeat Raines as he crosses the high desert plains of Nambia.”
Colonel Walz nodded. “We will be able to see Raines’s troops coming from the air. Namaland is fairly open. Not many places to hide tanks or APCs as they cross the veld, so they will be very dependent on their air cover, both for defense and to attack our forces in advance of Raines’s arrival. Our radar will pick up their aircraft as they approach. We can set up anti-aircraft batteries west and north of Johannesburg to limit their effectiveness. We’ll put them in deep bunkers so they can’t be taken out by smaller rockets carried by Raines’s fighter planes.”
“Good,” Bruno said, moving his finger to the Republic of Botswana. “I know Ben Raines . . . the way his mind works. He’ll send a force of some kind across the Kalahari, probably with strong air support, fighters and helicopter gunships. Here is where we’ll meet him head-on in the skies, with tank battalions to back us up.”
“A very good idea,” General Conreid said. “We can put a few anti-aircraft cannons in fortified sand pits near Serpwe, where there is enough rock to protect them. Sending tanks out into the Kalahari will be something he won’t expect. However, our Minsks can do well in sand or snow.”
Bruno looked at Colonel Walz. “Can we give this area enough air support, Colonel?”
“Of course, General Field Marshal.”
Now Bruno turned to General Ligon. “The Kalahari would be a good place to drop nerve gas bombs on Raines and his troops. We know from previous failures in Cameroon and Angola that they are impervious to our anthrax agents. Mustard gas and tear gas will force them into protective gear which will slow them down significantly in the desert heat.”
“I agree,” Ligon said. “Our inventory contains well over five hundred mustard gas canisters, and over twice that many of the tear gas bombs. If we drop the right number of both on the forces coming across the Kalahari they will suffer immeasurably in the desert heat, and with the prevailing winds in their faces the gas will linger for long periods of time.”
“I want the bastards to suffer,” Bruno hissed, returning to his map. “Now all we have to do is prepare our defenses and plan for attack in Zimbabwe.”
He pointed to the small country east of Botswana, just below Zambia. “From the positions where he was last sighted, I feel that the elusive bastard will come at us from western Zimbabwe, using the jungles and rivers as cover, since he seems to be afraid to come out into the open and fight.”
He faced his generals. “Any ideas on how we might at long last defeat the strike force?”
“Napalm,” Colonel Walz suggested.
“Yes. I like the idea of using Napalm there,” Conreid agreed quickly.
“It will set the jungle ablaze,” General Ligon agreed. “If we score direct hits they will be cooked alive, and then we can go in and mop up with tanks and infantrymen.”
“I hope you are right in your assessment. Marsh has been a thorn in my side for some time now, and has defeated us at every turn.”
He turned back to the map. “The other forces converging on us are not an immediate threat. Raines’s brigades to the east, traveling down the coast through Mozambique and eastern Zimbabwe, are far behind. If we can defeat them, it will be a crushing blow to the Rebel forces, and they might even decide to give up on their mad scheme to drive us from Africa.”
Bruno’s eyes glittered with a mad gleam as this thought was uttered. After a moment of reflection, he looked up. “Make these preparations, gentlemen. And be sure of one thing. If any of you fails to carry out his assignment, I will personally see to your execution.”
“Do not worry,” General Ligon said as he got up from the table. “Our chemical weapons will not fail if they are delivered properly.”
Colonel Walz nodded when he stood up. “Rest assured they will be delivered correctly by my aircraft, General Field Marshal Bottger. I will not fail you.”
General Conreid got up last. “I will redeem myself for what happened in Zimbabwe. This, I promise you.”
“Then get started,” Bruno said evenly, looking around the group with hooded eyes. “This will be the final defeat of all Rebel forces.”
“We intend to make certain of it,” Walz said, turning on his heel to be let out by Rudolf.
One by one his officers filed out of the room, leaving Bruno alone with Rudolf. Rudolf came over to the table with a question on his f
ace.
“Keep a close eye on General Conreid,” Bruno said, keeping his voice low.
“Do you suspect him of treason?” the muscular Rudolf asked, frowning.
“Perhaps. Perhaps he is only a clever fool. I may have been blind to his shortcomings. Report his every movement to me, and if he makes a mistake in these preparations, or if he talks to anyone who may be suspicious, I want to be informed.”
Rudolf smiled, a chilly smile. “Then, if you wish, I will kill him for you and make him suffer a terrible death.”
Bruno shook his head. “If he is a traitor, or even merely a fool who has led our soldiers to their deaths, that is exactly what I have in mind for him.”
TWENTY-FIVE
At three-thirty in the morning, Ben met with a ten member Scout squad in his CP tent.
“Captain Dominguez, are you and your men ready, and are you clear on what I want?”
Captain Raul Dominguez stood ramrod straight in front of his general. “Yes, sir! My team is going to do a night drop into the town of Tshane, just south of the Kalahari. We are to infiltrate the town, silently, and set up a radio link to the 501. Our orders are to watch for any aircraft or other sizable contingent of forces out of Pretoria and to let you know soonest, so as to prevent a surprise attack.”
Ben eyed the Scouts, the toughest, meanest fighting men in the history of warfare. They had the dirtiest job in the army—to go out ahead of the battalions and find out what the commanders faced ahead of them. These men were used to being on their own in enemy territory, and they thrived on it. Aside from Intelligence gathering, they were experts on infiltration, assassination, and other techniques for sowing fear and terror in the hearts of the enemy. They had been remarkably effective in every campaign Ben had fought.
“Remember,” Ben advised. “We need you primarily for Intelligence on this trip. Try to keep the killing and mayhem to a minimum, Captain.”
Dominguez smiled with his lips, but his eyes were ice cold and deadly. “I’ll do my best, sir. We won’t kill anyone unless it’s absolutely necessary to carry out our mission.”
“OK, men.” Ben walked up to each of the ten men and shook their hands one by one, wishing them good luck.
As they filed out of the tent, Beth looked at Ben and shivered. “Boss, those men give me the creeps. Their eyes are . . . dead.”
Ben nodded, “Yeah. I’m certainly glad they’re on our side, Beth.”
The Huey transport chopper, specially rigged to fly almost without sound, hovered at five thousand feet just outside the city limits of Tshane. Any lower, and the residents would be able to hear the chopper’s engines.
The pilot looked back over his shoulder and gave Raul a thumbs up signal.
Dominguez nodded and turned to his men. “Show time, gents. Let’s fly!”
He dove headfirst out of the door, followed closely by his team. They were all wearing black T-shirts and jeans with black greasepaint on their faces, and their parachutes were made of black silk so as not to be seen against the night sky.
Within minutes the team was assembled on the ground and had their chutes folded and packed. Each man carried a CAR, a 9mm automatic pistol, and a razor-sharp combat knife. These weapons were almost superfluous, as each man was as deadly in hand-to-hand combat as a ninja.
The scouts lined up behind Raul and jogged over two miles of hard-packed sand toward Tshane. The city was small, consisting mainly of adobe and brick houses, with few larger buildings.
There were no lights showing at this early hour as the team ran silently through the deserted streets. On the southern side of the city, Raul found a three-story building which looked like an abandoned store of some sort.
He used his knife to pry the lock off the door and ushered his men in, CARs at the ready in case there were inhabitants.
Finding none, Raul stationed three men on the roof and two in each of three rooms facing south, toward Pretoria. He set up radios in two of the rooms and instructed his men to keep their combat mikes on at all times.
Each of the men carried 70X100 power Bushnell binoculars, and there was one 100 Power telescope which was set up on the roof. After they were settled in, Raul instructed them to break out their rations and eat and drink plenty of water.
“It’s gonna get plenty hot in this building when the sun comes up, men, so keep up with your fluids. We may have a long wait until something breaks.”
Ben Raines looked out the back of the lead vehicle as his army caravan drove south at high speed across the kaokoveld of Nambia.
“Jesus, would you look at that,” he said.
The other members of his team who were riding with him all looked out the rear windshield of the big nine passenger SUV Cooper was driving.
There behind them, rising from the hundreds of vehicles and transports following them, was a huge dust cloud, looking like a bank of river fog as it rose in the bright sunlight.
“Bottger’s planes sure as hell won’t need radar to find us,” Jersey said, “all they have to do is follow the dust.”
“That’s the thing about veld country,” Ben said. “The large expanse of flat, dry land, covered with minimal amounts of buffalo grass, is excellent for our vehicles to traverse. The problem is we’re visible to anyone within twenty miles or more, and there’s no place to hide or take cover in the event of an attack.”
“Let’s hope our scout planes give us enough warning to radio for air cover should we need it,” Cooper said, glancing in the side rear view mirror as he drove.
“Oh, I have no doubt we’ll come under attack at some point on our journey,” Ben replied. “It’s just a question of whether it’ll be from native and merc forces or from the big guns of Bottger’s specialized armies.”
Ben’s 501 Brigade had started out early that morning, just prior to dawn, and had already covered over two hundred miles, traveling at an average of forty to fifty miles an hour. Even the big Abrams tanks were able to make forty miles an hour, though it was rough on the drivers and gunnery officers, who had to be relieved every few hours due to the shaking and bumping of the large vehicles over the rough terrain.
Ben, as usual, insisted on being in the lead car, over Michaels’ objections. He said it was good for morale for the men and ladies of his command to see him out front, “riding point,” as he put it.
Michaels wasn’t convinced, being afraid Ben would be killed in the event of an attack by Bottger’s army. Ben told him he could never ask any of his men to do that which he was not willing to do himself, and that settled the argument.
From the banks of the Kunene River, they coursed due south southeast toward the city of Khorixas, just below the Etosha National Forest. Game along the way was plentiful, and they saw dozens of the so-called desert elephants, rhinos, and lions roaming freely.
Nambia’s big game animals had virtually been hunted to extinction in the old days, but since the war, with the resultant marked reduction in population, the animals had started to make a comeback.
Beth called out, “Look, there’s a herd of black-faced impalas. My guide book says they were endemic to the Kaokoveld, and only recently have begun to come back in large numbers.”
Herding next to the impalas were several giraffes, with young animals tagging clumsily along behind, looking terribly awkward with their spindly legs and ridiculously long necks.
As the brigade roared across the veld, herds of zebras and the tiny Damara dik-diks were also frightened into stampedes. Ben had his sub-commanders caution their soldiers against shooting any of the wildlife, unless needed for food.
Ben pushed his troops on through Khorixas without stopping, since Intelligence had information there was a large contingent of natives there who were less than friendly to any white men, especially Rebels.
Due to the impending emergency back home Ben had decided to cease his earlier efforts to help the leaders of African villages and towns, get rid of the punks and gangs that had arisen since the war, and to go straight for Bot
tger’s headquarters to try to end this African campaign as soon as possible.
Fifty miles to the south was the smaller city of Brandberg, where he called a halt to the caravan and let the troops get out of the transport vehicles for a much needed rest and some hot food.
Mess tents were set up and food and drink and a two hour rest period provided, so the troops would be fresh when the attack that Ben suspected was coming arrived.
As Ben’s team finished their meal and laid out sleeping bags in the shade of a building, Anna said, a smile curving her lips, “I’ll move my sleeper over here, so Jersey and Coop can bunk next to each other, like they did in the jungle.”
She cocked her head to the side, “Is that OK, Coop?”
Cooper never hesitated. “Sure, it’s OK by me. Jersey and I are thinking of setting up housekeeping together when we get back to the states, isn’t that right, Jerse?”
He managed to give Jersey a wink where Anna couldn’t see it, to let her in on the joke.
“Sure,” Jersey said. “I’ve agreed to do all the house-cleaning and cooking and hold down a job, and all I ask of Cooper is that he let me sleep with his hunky body at least three times a week. If he does, it will make my life complete,” she said, staring at Cooper adoringly.
“What!” Anna shouted. “You’ve got to be kidding!”
“As a matter of fact, we are, you nosey little brat,” Cooper said, scowling. “And any more teasing from you, Anna, and I’m going to take you over my knees and spank your behind.”
Anna looked aghast. “You wouldn’t dare!”
Jersey put her hands on her hips, arching an eyebrow. “If he won’t I will, girlfriend.”
“OK, OK, I’ll keep my mouth shut about your sojourn in the jungle.”
Triumph in the Ashes Page 19
