Standoff in the Ashes Read online

  “Claire,” the longtime friend and advisor said patiently. He was one of only a few men and women who did not refer to her as Madam President when in semi-private or private conversation. “Ben Raines does not command a ragtag army. The Rebels are unquestionably the finest fighting force on earth. And you made a very big mistake by tangling with them.”

  Claire waved that away. “We’ve been over this before, Otis. I know your opinion. Enough, already.”

  Otis Warner stared at Claire for a moment. In all his years he had never known a person with such hatred as that which Claire Osterman held for Ben Raines. Not that some of it wasn’t justified, Otis thought, for in his mind it certainly was. Ben Raines was a most unreasonable man when it came to the SUSA . . . among other matters. But Claire had a very bad habit of sometimes underestimating her foes.

  Otis ignored her request to drop the subject. “Claire, let’s try negotiating with President Jefferys. He is a very reasonable man. I think we could work something out.”

  Claire Osterman glared at her friend for several seconds. The others in the room suddenly had a very strong urge to be somewhere else. Claire was becoming angry, and when she lost her temper she sometimes flew into a towering rage. It was not a pretty sight.

  Before Madam President could explode, Otis held up a hand. “Control yourself, Claire. Take a deep breath, have a sip of water. Just calm down and think about this. We’re going to waste a lot of money fighting Ben Raines and the Rebels. If this war continues for one more day, we’re going to be committed to seeing it through, no matter the cost or outcome. And it will be a protracted campaign, you can be assured of that. Are you certain that’s what you want?”

  Claire drummed her fingertips on the polished desktop for a moment. Then she sighed and shook her head. “We could bankrupt the nation . . . no, I certainly don’t want that.” She picked up some of the papers she had just been handed and muttered an obscenity under her breath. The defeat just handed the Federals was humiliating.

  Then Claire’s face hardened as the image and thought of a laughing Ben Raines entered her mind. “No,” she said firmly, “I will not negotiate with the SUSA.” She looked at Otis. “And that is final, old friend.”

  Otis Warner shrugged his shoulders. “So be it, Claire. Just don’t ever think or say that I didn’t try.”

  “Oh, I’m positive we shall be victorious in this war,” another of Claire’s ‘advisors’ piped up. Andy Shumburger had absolutely no business being a part of the national security team—he had difficulty walking and chewing gum at the same time—but he was a good party member who had led the fight to save the endangered blue-nosed, triple-titted, wiggle-wobble fish in his state. The facts that the fish was only approximately 1/16 of an inch long and no one had seen one in two hundred years didn’t matter. A hundred and fifty families were thrown out of their homes and moved to another location, and two thousand jobs were lost when a building permit was refused a company who wanted to set up a factory in that particular location. The drive to save the mysterious wiggle-wobble fish cost the taxpayers about five million dollars, but the fish were saved. That made it all worthwhile—The Save the Wobble Fish Committee thought so, at least. If they could just see one, they would be sure. But if they didn’t spot one in a few months the committee was already working on plans to erect a statue in memory of the wiggle-wobble fish . . . at taxpayer expense, of course.

  Otis sighed and rolled his eyes at Andy’s comment, but kept his silence.

  The other advisors agreed with Andy. The USA under the direction of Madam President Claire Osterman and her party of Socialist Democrats would be victorious in the battle with Ben Raines and his terrible band of right-wing, gun-happy, redneck Rebels.

  “Horseshit!” Otis muttered.

  “I beg your pardon, Otis?” the advisor seated closest to him asked. “What did you say?”

  “Nothing, Sam. Nothing at all.” But I am terribly afraid we are going to get our collective asses kicked very hard, Otis thought. Ben Raines and his Rebels have lost a few battles, but they have never lost a war, and they sure as hell aren’t going to lose this one.

  “Otis, old friend,” Claire said, leaning forward. “We are going to win in this fight with Raines. Remember this—we have the well-being of the nation and the good wishes of the people on our side. How can we lose?”

  Very easily, Otis thought, but he smiled at Madam President and nodded in agreement.

  “Let’s go into the war room,” Osterman said, standing up and moving around her massive desk. “We have to plan the next move for our military. I have an idea.”

  Otis sat for a few seconds longer before standing up and joining the group. Even if we did allow the military to run this war, we’d still stand a good chance of losing it, he thought, but with a group of civilians calling every move losing is a certainty. This is madness.

  “Coming, Otis?” Claire called.

  “Oh, yes,” Otis said. He thought: I wouldn’t miss this for the world. A planning session guaranteed to lose a war.

  TWO

  Ben spoke with every batt com up and down the long front. The Rebels had suffered only a few casualties. The Federals had been thrown back and had taken heavy losses.

  “They won’t make this mistake again,” Ben warned his people. “This move wasn’t planned by any experienced military commander, you can bet on that. This lunacy was the brainchild of full-time civilians who never served any time in the military or spent a day in combat.”

  “Who the hell is running the Federals’ operation, Ben?” asked Ike, Ben’s longtime friend and second in command. “This frontal assault was totally dumb.”

  “Claire Osterman. I’d bet on that.”

  “I hope she keeps running it.”

  “She won’t. The military won’t put up with it.”

  “Ben, my intel people are telling me what we’re facing is a mixed bag of regular USA troops and hired guns from all over the world.”

  “Yes. With more mercenary troops than American boys and girls.”

  “That makes me feel better about the heavy toll we just took on them.”

  “I know the feeling, Ike, but I can’t help thinking about the Americans all tangled up in this.” Ben sighed in frustration. “However . . . everybody has a choice, and they made theirs. We have to look at it in that light.”

  “That’s the only way to look at it, Ben. When do we start sending our spec ops teams into federal territory and letting them raise some hell?”

  “As soon as they start sending their teams into the SUSA, Ike. That’s the way I’m going to play it.”

  “I kinda figured that would be your reply, partner. Suits me.”

  “All right. You take care, ole’ buddy, and keep your powder dry.”

  “Same to you, Ben. Watch your ass. It’s you the Feds want. Keep that in mind all the time.”

  “Will do.”

  Ben walked outside the bunker and stood in the late afternoon air, drinking coffee and smoking. After the Federal push early that morning there had not been another shot fired from either side, at least not in Ben’s immediate sector. The Federals were dug in and keeping their heads down.

  “Wonder what they’ll throw at us next?” Jersey asked as the team walked out of the bunker to stand by Ben.

  “That’s a damn good question. They don’t have much of an air force. We’ve got them out-gunned there probably ten to one. Our navy is small, but still much larger than what the Federals have. With Sugar Babe and her silly-assed, so-called advisors running the show out of the capital, a thousand miles away, there is no telling what might happen next.”

  “Hasn’t been a mine go off in over an hour,” Cooper said. “They must have picked up all the wounded they could get to.”

  “All the nations in the world that need some help getting stabilized,” Anna remarked, “and the Federals pick a fight with us. Doesn’t make any sense to me.”

  “It goes back years before the Great War, Anna.
Long before you were born, long before any of you were born. America began a slow turn toward socialism. For whatever reasons, and they’re many and complicated, it couldn’t be stopped—or wouldn’t be stopped, might be a better way to say it. Both of the two major political parties were to blame. I’ll get some arguments on that point, but it’s the truth. Those of us who wanted a return to small government and individual rights frightened big government, and weren’t allowed to organize. You all know the story. You’ve heard me expound on it often enough.”

  “Yes, but you were there, Pops,” Anna said. “You witnessed it firsthand. It’s different than us reading about it in history books.”

  Before Ben could reply, a burst of gunfire erupted off to the west and spun them around.

  “Infiltrators!” someone shouted, the call faint. “Coming up behind us.”

  Ben didn’t have to order his team into cover. They were moving before the echo of the shouted alarm had faded away. Corrie was back in the bunker where the most sophisticated of her radio equipment was set up, the others spread out on the ground, behind cover.

  A few seconds passed in silence. Then Corrie called, “At least platoon-sized, Boss. Maybe larger than that. They’re good, too. Professional.”

  “How many locations are reporting this type of action?” Ben called.

  “Several dozen, all up and down the line.”

  “Berman sacrificed green boys and girls as a diversion to HALO this bunch in,” Ben said grimly. “Just before dawn today. Good move, Walt. Smart. But I’m going to kill you for that. Personally.”

  Something thudded on the ground in front of the rise of ground Ben was lying behind. “Grenade!” he shouted, then rolled backward a few yards down the slight mound of earth.

  The grenade blew, and hot shrapnel hummed and whizzed over Ben’s head.

  Several CAR’s yammered at once, and someone thrashed about in the bushes for a few seconds and then was still. Ben crawled back up to the crest of the rise and looked over the terrain in the light of late afternoon. The area was shrouded in shadows from the timber.

  Ben caught a glimpse of something that just didn’t quite fit in with the terrain and triggered off a burst of .223’s from his CAR. Someone grunted in pain and then was still. Ben backed up just in time: the crest of the rise was lashed with gunfire, the lead kicking up dirt that showered him.

  The team opened up with automatic fire and grenades. They kept it up for half a minute, tossing a dozen fire-frags, doing some fast magazine changes, and burning several hundred rounds of ammo. By that time a hundred more Rebels had moved in and surrounded the area.

  “Give it up, people,” Ben called from the ridge. “There is no percentage in dying. You will not be harmed in any way, and you will be treated with every courtesy accorded prisoners of war. You have my word on that.”

  “Who are you to be giving your word?” The question was thrown out of the brush.

  “Ben Raines.”

  After a very short pause, the Federal said, “That’s good enough for me. Coming out.”

  A dozen or so men stepped slowly out of the brush, hands in the air. They were immediately surrounded by two dozen Rebels. Another dozen fanned out and carefully searched the timber and brush around Ben’s CP.

  “All clear,” a Rebel called after a few moments. “Ten dead. Four wounded.”

  “Get the medics in there,” Ben ordered. “And ready some transportation to take them to the field hospital.” Ben walked down the short incline and faced the Federals. “Who is in charge here?”

  A burly man spoke up. “I am. Captain Broadhurst. Thank you for being so considerate to my wounded.” He then gave his serial number and closed his mouth.

  “That’s good enough for me, Captain,” Ben said. “You’ll be escorted south to a POW camp. I assure you, neither you nor your men will be harmed.”

  “Thank you, sir.” The captain saluted and Ben returned it. A moment later the Federals were being marched off, under heavy guard.

  “We lost some people,” Corrie said, walking up. “All up and down the line. But the Federal assault failed. They lost a lot of people, and we’ve collected several hundred prisoners. The assault didn’t accomplish a thing.”

  “It showed us something about the caliber of men we’re up against,” Ben said. “And they’re capable of doing just about anything to win.”

  “Almost like us,” Anna said softly.

  “Almost,” Ben replied, after a few seconds pause. “But not quite. We still have some honor left. But can we maintain it if a civil war drags on?”

  Ben paused and the others waited, looking at him. He did not reply, just turned and walked away.

  “I don’t think I have ever seen him this sad,” Jersey said. “I don’t like it.”

  “It’s tearin’ him up, that’s for sure,” Cooper said. “Worst I’ve ever seen.”

  “Not since Jerre’s death, anyway,” Beth said softly.

  “Yeah,” Cooper said. “You’re right. God, I forgot about her.”

  “You can bet he hasn’t,” Jersey said. “And you can also bet he never will.”

  Before anyone could say anything else on the subject, Ben came out of the CP. “Get your gear together and let’s roll, gang. We’re changing sectors just to be on the safe side. This site may have been compromised.”

  In the big nine passenger SUV, Cooper asked, “Which way, Boss?”

  “East, Coop. Toward the Bootheel of Missouri.”

  “Where do you want to stop for the night?” Corrie asked. “Which it will be in about an hour,” she added.

  Ben smiled at the not-too-subtle hint in Corrie’s voice. “I don’t know, Corrie. It isn’t that far, and we’ll be on Rebel roads. They’re in good shape. We’ll see.”

  They drove straight through to the end of the line, which surprised no one in Ben’s team or his security people, who were always close by.

  The officer in charge of the Rebels at the last outpost east in this sector, on the Arkansas/Missouri line, was not surprised to see Ben and his team unass themselves from the big wagon. He had been warned by other Rebels along the way that the War Eagle himself was on the prowl and might show up.

  “How are things here, Captain?” Ben asked the commander of the small detachment of Rebels.

  “Quiet, sir.” He pointed east. “But the Federals are dug in tight just across the river.”

  Ben turned toward the St. Francis River. “How many?”

  “Several companies, at least. This is the only bridge over that river left intact in this area. They’d like to take it in one piece.”

  “I bet they would. Is it wired to blow?”

  “Yes, sir. The Combat Engineers did that some time back. I’m sure the Federals know it’s wired. General? Do you think something is about to pop in this area?”

  Ben shook his head. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, Captain. Or where.”

  “We know they’ve been moving in boats over there,” the captain said, jerking a thumb toward the river.

  “You ready for an assault?”

  The young captain smiled. “Oh, yes, sir.”

  “Then let them come.”

  “You going to stay with us tonight, sir?”

  “Thought I might. We’ll stay out of your way. If the Federals attack, it’s your show. Where do you want my people?”

  “We’re pretty thin, General. Anywhere will do, and we’re glad to have you.”

  “We’ll hold our own, Captain. We’ll spread out to the south and dig in.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Carry on, Captain.”

  After the young officer had left, Jersey said, “You ’bout scared the shit out of him, Boss. Showin’ up like we did.”

  “I used to know every officer in the Rebel army by their first name. Now I don’t know but a handful. What is that young man’s name?”

  “Evans, Boss,” Beth said. “He was a sergeant when we first hit Africa. By the time we pulled out
of there, he was commanding a platoon.”

  “Thank you, Beth. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “I know what I’d like to do with her,” Cooper said after Beth had walked out of earshot.

  Ben smiled. “Get your mind off pussy, Coop.”

  “How does one do that, Boss? ’Specially when you’re surrounded by good-lookin’ women?”

  Ben laughed. “I don’t know, Coop. But do your best. I think the Federals are going to try to cross that little river tonight.”

  “They’re fools if they do.”

  “Just more cannon fodder. Probing for weak spots. Let’s get dug in. It just might get real interesting around here in a few hours.”

  THREE

  “They’re really going to try it,” Jersey whispered as the very faint sounds of boats sliding into the water reached the Rebels on the other side.

  “More young American boys and girls being used as cannon fodder by their commanders,” Ben said, disgust and sadness all mixed up in his voice.

  “Federals probing at half a dozen other locations,” Corrie said quietly.

  A moment later the pop of flares was loud in the quiet night. The night became bright with artificial light. Then the carnage began as Rebels opened up with machine guns, Big Thumpers, and automatic rifle fire. Many of the Rebels had tears in their eyes as they opened fire on fellow Americans, but they had no choice in the matter. It all boiled down to kill-or-be-killed-time, and the Rebels were experts in staving alive.

  The assault fell apart in only a few minutes, and the river turned red with blood. Bodies bobbed in the dark waters, and wounded Federals cried out in the night. The Rebels ceased their fire and waited.

  “I don’t think they’ll try that again,” Ben said.

  “I really hope not,” Jersey said, considerable emotion in her voice.

  Ben worked his way down the bank and walked back to where Captain Evans was dug in. The captain greeted him somberly.

  “Hard night, Captain,” Ben said. “This isn’t something that any of us wanted.”

  “No, sir. But we didn’t start this war. All we wanted was to be left alone.”