Ambush in the Ashes Read online

  One sunny morning she sat down beside Ben, the team gathered around her, and opened a map. “Where are we going to land, boss?”

  Ben stuck a finger on the map. “Right there, Beth. Tangier.” He looked at the date on his watch. “In two days. The battalions will start stretching out immediately. Ike and his 2 Batt will travel across the top of North Africa to Egypt. We know that the northernmost part of Libya is relatively secure. Israel took care of that . . . with some assistance from Egypt. Egypt is secure and prospering. We confirmed that when Israel finally opened up lines of communication with us.”

  “How about those other mideast countries that were sworn enemies of Israel?” Corrie asked.

  “So far as we have been able to determine, they have been neutralized,” Ben said. “They are no longer a threat to anyone.”

  “So we don’t worry about them this run?” Cooper asked.

  “I don’t think anybody will ever again have to worry about those terrorist nations,” Ben said softly. “Not for a long, long time.”

  “So we’re taking the west side of the continent?” Jersey asked.

  “That’s it, gang. When the battalions have stretched out west to east, we start working south.”

  “What’s the time factor on this, General Ben?” Anna asked.

  “There is no way of determining that, Anna. We might be over here for years. I won’t even make a guess. Hell, we might be tied up in North Africa for months fighting our way through highly organized resistance. Then we still must face our main opposition.”

  “Bruno Bottger,” Corrie said softly.

  “Yes. Good ol’ Bruno and his Nazis. Jesus, I wish I could have killed that son of a bitch in Europe.”

  “We gave it a pretty good shot,” Jersey reminded him.

  Ben sighed. “Yeah, we did. Well, better make sure you’ve got all your gear together. Forty-eight hours is going to pass pretty quickly.”

  After his team had left, Ben sat for a time, deep in thought. Then he folded his maps, tucking them away in a waterproof map case, his other papers going into a briefcase. Then he went in search of the SEAL team who would be going in first.

  Forty-eight hours was ticking down toward jump off time.

  “Looks peaceful enough,” Lamar Chase remarked, standing beside Ben at the rail. The doctor lowered his binoculars.

  “SEALs have determined the docks are secure,” Ben replied. “They also reported that the city itself, at first glance, does not appear to hold any hostile forces. But the team leader also said he has a very goosy feeling in the pit of his stomach about the situation.”

  “Well, if that’s the case, you can’t lead your people in, Ben.”

  “Watch me.”

  “Listen, you hard-headed . . .” Lamar bit the remark off, knowing there was no point in arguing with Ben. He sighed and shook his head.

  “1 Batt into the landing craft,” Ben said to Corrie, standing by his side.

  She immediately transmitted the orders and the Rebels began going over the side, climbing down into the landing craft that were tucked in close to the huge ship.

  Ben stuck out his hand and Lamar shook it. “Break a leg, Raines,” the doctor said.

  “You wish,” Ben replied with a smile, then went over the side and seconds later was in a landing craft, his team right with him.

  The landing craft pulled away from the ship and into the channel, beginning a circling/holding pattern until all the other landing craft filled with Rebels were ready to go.

  Ben, Jersey, Corrie, Beth, and Anna were carrying CAR’s, Cooper was carrying a SAW (squad automatic weapon). Every Rebel was heavily laden with equipment, for no one had any idea how long they might have to hold the dock area before supplies could reach them.

  Ben cut his eyes to his team. Jersey was calmly chewing gum, her expression bland. Corrie was listening intently to the SEAL team chatter on the docks. Anna was adjusting her battle harness. Cooper was talking softly with Beth. Ben smiled. His team had been through this many times.

  “Ship is signaled 2 Batt is ready to go,” Ben was informed. “All 1 Batt personnel in landing craft.”

  “Take us ashore,” Ben ordered. “2 Batt will hold until my orders.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “General Ike says for you to watch your ass,” Corrie told Ben.

  “Tell fatso as big as his ass is, it’s in far more danger than mine,” Ben responded.

  “Right, boss,” Corrie said. “You know I’m going to do that.”

  Ben laughed as the landing craft headed for the shoreline.

  “The SEALs are coming under fire,” Corrie reported.

  “I wondered when that would come.” Ben looked at the coxswain, who was looking back at him. “Put the pedal to the metal, son. Get us ashore.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The young coxswain was not used to commanding generals being in his boat and was just a tad on the nervous side. Ben moved to his side and patted him on the shoulder. “You’re doing just fine, sailor.”

  “Thank you, sir. Sir?”

  “Yes?”

  “Would you please get your ass down behind cover?”

  Ben laughed at the expression on the young sailor’s face. “You mean it wouldn’t look good on your record if I got killed while riding in your boat?”

  “Something like that, sir.”

  Ben chuckled and moved away, rejoining his team.

  “Boss?” Cooper said.

  “Yes, Coop?”

  “You know I’ll follow you through the gates of Hell, don’t you, sir?”

  “I know that, Coop.”

  “But I have got to draw the line at one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I refuse to ride a goddamn camel!”

  Cooper had such a serious expression on his face, Ben and his team howled with laughter, breaking any slight tension.

  The dock area drew closer.

  THREE

  Ben was the first one out of the landing craft and onto Moroccan soil—or concrete and wood to be more accurate, since the coxswain put the craft into a slip right up against the docks.

  Ben and team ran to a row of large metal shipping containers and crouched there. So far, they had received no hostile fire in their direction.

  “1 Batt coming in,” Corrie reported.

  “Tell them to spread out left and right and secure the port area,” Ben ordered. “If an unknown points a gun at them, drop him.”

  But whoever had been attacking the small SEAL team cut and ran when hundreds of Rebels began pouring all over the port area and spreading out.

  “SEALs report a number of shadows fading back and disappearing into alleyways and buildings,” Corrie said.

  “That means they’ll probably be setting up to ambush us and take pot shots. Tell the first platoon to work forward and start putting some rifle grenades into those buildings. Pour it on. Let’s see what happens.”

  When the first several dozen or so 40mm grenades dropped in through the broken windows and open doorways and exploded, there was a mass exodus of those who had met the Rebels with hostility. They were wearing a mishmash of clothing, varying from long hooded robes to tattered military uniforms.

  “All right, people,” Ben said. “Let’s clear the port area so Ike’s 2 Batt can land.”

  An hour later, Ike strolled up to Ben: a great big teddy bear carrying a CAR, battle harness bulging with full magazines and grenades. A very dangerous teddy bear.

  “Any casualties, Ben?”

  “Not a one. You?”

  “One guy slipped and broke his ankle. It’s pretty bad. I’m sending him back home. He’s out of it.”

  “Well, somebody has to keep the ladies happy back home. It’s a dirty thankless job, I’m sure.”

  Ike laughed. “Those who attacked you . . . any idea who they were or if they were acting alone or part of an organized resistance?”

  “We took two prisoners, but so far, they’re not talking.�
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  “Civilians giving you any trouble?”

  “What civilians, Ike? We haven’t seen the first sign of a civilian—man, woman, or child.” He turned to Beth. “What was the population of this city before the war, Beth?”

  “Just about three hundred thousand, boss.”

  Ben cut his eyes to Ike just as Dan Gray walked up; his 3 Batt was ashore. “So where did the people go? What happened to them?”

  “How far in have you pushed?” Dan asked.

  “A few hundred meters. Past several streets. Nothing.” He opened a map and spread it out on the hood of a beat-up old car of indistinguishable make. “Dan, start spreading your people up this road.” He jabbed a finger at a spot on the map. “Up toward Medina. Take it slow and careful and investigate each building and alley.”

  “Right, sir.”

  The former British SAS man went trotting off, yelling at his platoon leaders and company commanders.

  “Boss,” Corrie said, “Therm is hollering about coming ashore. He was supposed to follow us. He wants to know what the hold-up is.”

  The former hippie-turned-warrior was in command of headquarters battalion; actually a short battalion about the size of several companies, designated 19 Batt.

  But Rebel companies were several times larger than the old regular army companies. Rebel battalions were pretty much self-contained, with armor and artillery rolling with them. In the short run, Rebel battalions did not have to call for armor and artillery; they already had it available.

  In support of the 19 battalions, there were additional armor and artillery companies separate from them, as well as air. But it would be several weeks before the helicopters and planes arrived on the scene, and another several weeks before the additional armor and artillery companies would arrive and come ashore.

  “Tell Thermopolis to keep his pants on,” Ben said. “I don’t have any need for his HQ people just yet. Tell him to stay busy sharpening his pencils. He’ll have plenty to do in a very short time.”

  “Advance teams are finding large groups of civilians,” Corrie reported, after acknowledging the radio report. “French-speaking, mostly. With Arabic and various Berber dialects.”

  “Get the interpreters ashore,” Ben ordered. “ASAP.” He looked across the wide street, then consulted his map. “We just crossed the Avenue des Forces Armées Royales. We’ve got a long way to go to reach the business district. When the interpreters get here, ask the civilians if there are any creepies around.”

  “Sergeant Broussard managed to get his Cajun French through to them,” Corrie said. “They said no. They didn’t even know what a night person was.”

  “Thank God for small favors,” Ben replied. “At least we won’t have those bastards to contend with.”

  “Dr. Chase is throwing a fit,” Corrie reported. “Demanding to know why he must remain on board ship.”

  “For his own good,” Ben told her. “We can’t bring the MASH units ashore until we find a place for them. Tell him there have been no wounded to care for, so just calm down.” Ben looked around. “Dan’s 3 Batt is moving out. Tell West to bring his 4 Batt ashore and start spreading out to the south. Let’s go talk to some of these civilians.”

  “Marauders from the south is all they can tell us, General,” an interpreter told Ben. “The same bunch who attacked us.”

  “Marauders? Damn it, marauders didn’t kill off an entire city, Lieutenant. What happened to the people?”

  The lieutenant talked with the resident for a few moments, then looked up at Ben. “He says thousands fled when the Great War started. Then poisonous gas came and killed thousands more. For several years, the city was calm, life was hard, but people survived, then the marauders became coming in out of the south. He says there are only small pockets of people all over the city. He thinks there are much larger numbers of survivors south, in Casablanca.”

  “Do you trust him, Lieutenant?”

  “No. Not at all, General. I get the feeling everything he’s said is a lie.”

  “For what reason?”

  “I don’t know, sir. But he’s lying. I’d bet on that.”

  “Talk to some of the others and let me know your feelings then. I’ll be around.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Outside, clear of the dimness of the ground floor of the building, which had held a slightly unpleasant odor of stale grease and unwashed bodies, Ben took several deep breaths and leaned up against the side of a wrecked old pickup truck.

  “What’s up, boss?” Jersey asked.

  “I don’t know, Little Bit. But something is definitely wrong about this city.”

  “You remember what Dr. Chase told us about the danger of rabies in this part of the country? And to be real careful about approaching stray dogs?”

  Ben cut his eyes. “Yes. So?”

  “Scouts report not one sign of a dog, cat, or rat anywhere.”

  “That’s what the people have been eating.”

  “Right.”

  “Food might coax them out of hiding.”

  “But do we really want them to come out of hiding, boss?” Cooper asked.

  “Cooper, you’re an asshole,” Jersey told him.

  “No, wait,” Ben said. “He’s got a point. We start bringing out tons of food, we could easily provoke riots. But, if we ignore the situation and move on, would we rather have thousands of starving people at our backs?”

  “So we’re peacekeepers and humanitarians after all,” a familiar voice came behind Ben.

  Ben turned to look at Lamar Chase. “How the hell did you get ashore?”

  “I walked on water, Raines. How the hell do you think I came ashore? What are you going to do about this situation?”

  “Lamar, we don’t even know what the situation is as yet. We haven’t had time to assess it. It’s dangerous out here. Where is your security.”

  “I have a SEAL team all around me. You forget I was Navy before I had the misfortune to meet you. Any more stupid questions?”

  “I suppose you brought a team of non-combatant doctors with you, to get in everybody’s way and add more confusion to an already confusing day?”

  “Certainly, I did. Now stop with all the questioning and point out where you would like us to set up.”

  “We don’t have a place, Lamar. You were told that. We’ve only pushed in two blocks or so from the docks.”

  “Fine. So we’ll set up right over there in that building.” He turned and pointed.

  “Oh, goddamnit!” Ben said. “Go ahead, you old crocodile. But don’t blame me if you get caught up in a riot.”

  “Why shouldn’t I? You’re in command, aren’t you?”

  “Sometimes, I wonder,” Ben muttered.

  Chase wandered off with his security team to set up a temporary hospital. Ben looked at Corrie.

  “Tell the cooks to set up their mess tents and get to cooking. Bake some bread. That aroma should get the people out of cover.”

  “This could get scary, boss,” Beth said. “Starving people could easily riot.”

  “I know, but we’ve got about an hour to get ready for any trouble. Corrie, have our people set up defense lines. Get any French-speaking Rebels up here on the double. We’ll have four entrances to this area, and only four. We can’t let more people in here than we can safely control. Bump Georgi and have him start bringing his 5 Batt ashore and Therm’s HQ Batt as well. Therm can set up on the docks and I want Georgi with me. Tell them to hurry it up. And tell the cooks don’t start fixing anything with pork in it, or we’ll damn sure have a riot.”

  “It’s my opinion that if people are starving, they don’t have the right to be very damn choosy,” Anna said coldly.

  “VeIl, personally, Anna, I feel the same way about it.”

  Ben smiled. “But let’s not tempt fate our first day in the country.”

  Ben walked around, inspecting the defense posts. “All people on the defense posts put on face shields,” he ordered. “If the people get
ugly, they’ll probably start with spitting and throwing rocks,” Ben told each defense post. “No Rebel life is to be put in danger. If a person points a weapon of any kind at you, drop them on the spot. If they rush you en masse, don’t hesitate to open fire. Because I damn sure won’t hesitate.”

  Georgi, the big Russian bear, stormed ashore with his 5 Batt and added part of his people to the defensive line, others in spot locations all around the area, and kept the remainder inside the loose circle with Ben, the mess areas, and the impromptu hospital.

  “You people can go play with the fish now,” he told the SEAL team who were protecting Doctor Chase. “Crazy bunch of people,” he muttered, as the SEALs wandered off, looking for something to get into.

  “Well, hell, Georgi,” Ben said. “Look who set up the training for them—Ike.”

  “I know, Ben. That should explain it all. Ike is still as nutty as the day I first met him.”

  Ben didn’t tell Georgi, but Ike felt the same way about the Russian. However, that didn’t keep the two men from being good and close friends. They just were wary of each other’s tactics in the field.

  “A few groups of people are approaching the first checkpoint,” Corrie said. “They appear to be unarmed and showing no hostile intent.”

  “Damn wogs,” Georgi growled. “I don’t trust any of them.”

  Ben hid his smile at the Russian’s use of the old highly derogatory term for Arabs.

  “Thieves and beggars, all of them,” Georgi summed up his opinion of the population.

  “I should have left you back in the SUSA, Georgi,” Ben said with a laugh.

  The Russian chuckled for a few seconds, the vocal expression of humor sounding much like a rumbling engine of a tank. “Ages-old intolerances surfacing, Ben. Pay no attention to me. My father was in this area when I was just a boy. He brought all his prejudices home with him. Personally I have nothing against these people—yet,” he added in typical Georgi Striganov fashion.

  “Guards asking if it’s okay to allow the first bunch in,” Corrie questioned.

  “Let them in,” Ben said.

  “Tell them to check their camels with the attendant,” Georgi said, then grinned, cutting his eyes toward Ben.