Terror in the Ashes Read online

  “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!”

  Ben filled the doorway. “What is it, boy?”

  “You’d be please forgivin’ a woman for not risin’ in your presence, General,” the woman said. “But them trash broke my legs. It’s my wee one here that I’m concerned about.”

  “Get some medics and two litters in here, Buddy,” Ben said, kneeling down beside the woman and the sobbing little girl. “And tell Linda to get in here with her kit.”

  “I’ve seen some goddamn terrible things in my long years,” the voice of Dr. Chase rose over the gunfire. “But damned if this doesn’t rate right up there with the worst.”

  “And tell that old goat to get in here, Buddy. Jesus, there’s a war going on and he’s out sightseeing.”

  “Oh, shut up, Raines,” Chase said, stepping into the small house. He quickly assessed the situation and roared for medics. He knelt down beside the woman and hiked her dress up past her knees. “Tell me where it hurts,” he said, as gently as possibly touching her battered flesh.

  “It hurts just about everywhere, Doctor – you are a doctor, aren’t you?”

  “That’s been debated on more than one occasion,” Ben said, stepping aside to let the medics in.

  “Oh, go fight a damn war, Raines,” Chase told him, without looking up. “I haven’t got time to listen to your lip now. Easy with that girl, people!”

  Ben stepped back outside and joined his team. Corrie said, “Our people are wrapping it up now, General. It’s down to just a few more blocks near the center of town.”

  “Well, let’s go check it out. We don’t want somebody else to have all the fun.”

  They passed one elderly man who was busy building a noose at the end of a rope. He looked up at Ben. “Damned murderin’, rapin’, torturin’ scum. ’Tis a rotten shame when Irish turn agin’ Irish. By the Lord God there’ll be justice this night.” He returned to his noose building.

  Ben walked on. “It’s what the good citizens of America should have done back before the Great War. And I was approached to take part in the overthrow.”

  “Really, Ben?” Linda asked, after they hastily took cover from a nasty hail of bullets. The lead wasn’t coming at them but in combat, reflex had better take over.

  “Really.” The machine gun opened up again and this time the lead flew all around Ben and his team. “Will somebody please neutralize that son of a bitch!” a Rebel hollered.

  “They have hostages in there, sir!” a Rebel yelled.

  Ben keyed his mic. “This is General Raines. I might suggest using smoke,” he said dryly. “And go in under it.”

  “Right, sir!” came the quick respond.

  “That’s Willison,” Buddy said. “Something must have happened to Lieutenant Matthews. Willison’s never commanded a full platoon before. He’s nervous and cautious.”

  “He’ll get over it,” Ben said.

  Smoke grenades were tossed around all sides of the house and Rebels worked their way in, staying low, for the rain was preventing the smoke from rising as it should.

  A few moments passed. The gunfire in the town was sporadic now. “All clear, sir,” Willison shouted. “We ...”

  A single shot rang out. The sound of a body hitting damp earth was clear. “There he is!” a Rebel shouted, rage in his voice. M-16’s began yammering and the sniper was literally shot to bloody rags. He fell from the roof of a store and landed on the sidewalk.

  “Get me a report, Corrie,” Ben said wearily, getting to his boots.

  “Yes, sir,” she said softly. She spoke and listened and stood up, standing beside Ben. “Willison took one in the throat. He’s the only fatality so far. Four wounded. One seriously. The other three will be on light duty for just a few days.”

  Ben nodded his head. There had been no gunfire for several moments.

  “The town’s ours,” Corrie said.

  “House to house,” Ben said. “We don’t want to leave even one behind and alive.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Willison just got married, didn’t he? Right before we pulled out?”

  “Yes, sir,” Jersey said. “She’s back at Base Camp One.”

  “Buddy, secure quarters for me tonight,” Ben said. “I have a letter to write.”

  Four

  After breakfast, Ben walked back up the road to where his command was bivouacked. He passed earth-moving equipment that was gouging out a hole in the ground for the enemy dead. They were wrapped in blankets and lined up on the grass. Willison would be buried properly in the town’s old cemetery. Ben looked in on Chase. The man was grim-faced at his field desk.

  “What’s the matter, Lamar?” Ben asked, taking a seat.

  “The little girl who was raped?”

  Ben nodded.

  “She died.”

  “You blaming yourself?”

  “How can I? We’ve got the finest medical equipment and know-how in the world. God damn it, she just died, that’s all!”

  “You want to yell at me, Lamar? Go ahead. Get it out of your system.”

  “No, Ben, I don’t want to yell at you.” He threw his pen on the desktop. “What the hell is in the minds of grown men who rape babies? When do they start to go wrong? No, don’t try to reply. Just listen. As a physician, I used to scoff at those who subscribed to the bad seed theory – and that would have included you, had I known you at the time. But now I’m not so sure.” He tapped a thick notebook that he had closed when Ben walked in.

  “Over the past decade, Ben, I have kept a careful journal. I’ll keep this in layman’s terms. There just might be a gene somewhere that goes wrong. That’s not proper medical terminology, but it’ll do. I think the bad seed theory might not be just a theory. I think there’s something to it. Chemical imbalance in the brain. Genes. Something is haywire at birth. You know why I think scientists never went after that theory very strongly? Think about it, Ben. Suppose that modern science could have proved the bad seed theory. Then what? It’s ethics. What would society have the doctor do? Kill the infant at birth? Imprison the baby as soon as it’s weened? You know what else I think? I think science did prove it. They proved it in a lab, but couldn’t find a way to correct it, so they remained silent on it. Or the man or woman who discovered the truth destroyed the papers and kept his mouth shut about it. That’s what I think happened.”

  “And you think society should do what, Lamar?”

  “Hell, Ben, I don’t know. What we’re doing, I suppose. It won’t help those that have already been subjected to rape and torture and murder, but it does ensure that the criminal will never repeat his acts.”

  Ben nodded his head. “We’re pulling out just as soon as we bury Willison. How about the Rebel who was seriously hurt?”

  “He’s already back in Galway, in the hospital. Had to amputate his left leg.”

  “See you on the road, Lamar.”

  The column rolled out and toward their next objective, the town of Kilconnell. But this town proved to be merely a roll-through, for the outlaws and turncoat Irish had pulled out during the night. The spokesman for the survivors met the column on the edge of town.

  “They were in communication with the scum in Attymon, General. They left shortly after your attack. I wish I could tell you what their plans might be, but I just don’t know.”

  “We’ll stick around long enough to tend to any sick or wounded you might have.”

  “And that’s a-plenty, sir,” the man spoke the words grimly. “Jack Hunt’s people savaged us, they did.”

  The Rebel doctors and medics worked grim-faced on the victims of the outlaws. The sexually abused children hit them the hardest, for many of the kids – boys as well as girls – were very young.

  “Was there any among them with even a shred of decency?” Ben asked a group of townspeople.

  “Not none that we ever saw,” a woman told him. “I never saw even one act of kindness or compassion or mercy. Them trash is beyond redemption. I say it knowing that God will not
look kindly upon me for those words.”

  The citizens were armed with the weapons taken from past engagements, and as always, with Ben’s now familiar words. “Don’t ever let any man or government take your weapons. Not ever again.”

  The Rebels stayed that afternoon and night, and pulled out at dawn the next day.

  “Scouts report a large force waiting in Ballinasloe,” Corrie told Ben. “All bridges over the Suck appear to be wired to blow.”

  “Hostages?”

  “Plenty of them.”

  “What’s the word from the other battalions?”

  “Tied up just like us. Taking it one town at a time and trying to keep the civilian casualty list low. They report bridges being blown all up and down the Shannon.”

  “We still have units trapped on the east side of the river?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “They have been advised to dig in and stay low?”

  “Several times, General.”

  “Chopper a SEAL team in here, Corrie. Right now. We make no moves until they’re suited up and in place to disarm those explosives on the bridge at Ballinasloe. If we have to, we’ll take Bailey Bridge across. But I’d rather leave what existing bridges remain intact. Get Dan over here and tell Ike to get his fat butt moving.”

  “We were only a few miles from the city when the bridges went up,” Ike said. “How many do we still have operating?”

  “Ballinasloe and Banagher,” Ben said, pointing at the map. “Ballinasloe is yours, Ike. Dan, your people take the bridge at Banagher.”

  “We’ll hit it come dark,” Ike said.

  “We?” Ben looked at him. “No. Not we, Ike. I need you here. Besides, you’d look like a whale in that river.”

  Ike was more stocky than fat, but he could stand to lose a few more pounds. He grinned at Ben. “I’ll have you know I’ve lost fifteen pounds since we sailed.”

  “Good. Lose fifteen more.”

  “Lard-butt,” Dan said.

  Ike gave the Englishman the finger.

  “Now listen, both of you,” Ben said. “The Free Irish say that the east shore is heavily manned with machine guns. Ike, Dan, you’re the experts on these matters, so this operation is in your hands. Get to it.”

  Ben left it to them and went outside, where a table had been set up. He sat down and began studying maps. With the blowing of the bridges — which had not come as any surprise; Ben would have done the same thing – it put the campaign on a whole new footing. The original plans would now be scrapped and the backup plans hauled out and dusted off.

  Of course, Ben knew what Jack Hunt was doing. He was buying time. From Ballyshannon all the way south to Limerick those Rebels west of the rivers Suck and Shannon were halted dead still. Those units trapped on the east side were in danger of being discovered and attacked ... should Jack want to risk that, and Ben doubted he did. Jack had discovered just how fiercely the Rebels fought, and for him to attack would mean that he would lose ten personnel to every one Rebel lost.

  No, he would use this time to mine roads, set up defensive lines, and prepare ships to cross the Irish Sea to England. Ben couldn’t use helicopter gunships to attack Dublin for fear of killing civilians and of destroying the ships the Rebels would need to cross the Irish Sea.

  “Start-over time,” Ben muttered, as Jersey brought him a mug of coffee.

  Rebet’s Six Battalion and Tina’s Nine Battalion were trapped on the east side of the river.

  The SEAL teams and Dan’s Special Operations people moved out just after dark, the mission commanded by Dan Gray. Ike sat with Ben, drinking coffee and waiting for word.

  Only one very short-burst transmission had come from Rebet and Tina. EVERYTHING OK. STAYING DOWN.

  A few Free Irish were to meet the SEALs and the Special Operations people on the outskirts of Ballinasloe and Banagher and guide them in. The SEALs would take Ballinasloe, leaving Banagher for Dan and his SO team.

  Ike’s battalion was quietly and quickly being shifted up north. At the instant the bridges were cleared, they would pour across at Banagher, secure the town, and lay a defensive line out to provide a buffer zone for Tina and Rebet, while Ben’s people would attack Ballinasloe.

  But once that was done, the Rebels on the east side of the rivers would have to stretch out their forces and hold what they gained until everything west of the rivers was clean and clear. Ben and Ike could not get too far out in front of other support troops for fear of Jack pulling an end-around, cutting them off and sealing their fates.

  “They’re in the water, General,” Corrie reported.

  “Let’s go,” Ben said, standing up and reaching for his short-barreled 9mm spitter.

  Everyone that was going was ready and standing by for word. They had blackened their faces and wore dark clothing. They would drive up to within a couple of miles of the objective, running without lights. From there they would walk to the shores of the river, several miles upriver from both towns. Members of the Free Irish resistance forces would have small boats ready for them to cross. The Rebels could not roar across the standing bridges in their vehicles for fear of enemy artillery bringing the bridges down or doing severe structural damage.

  The trucks rolled out, running without lights. Chase and his medical people would follow once Ben and his teams made the river crossing and Ike and Dan had secured the bridges.

  The teams crossing the river were carrying only light weapons and plenty of ammo. Once on shore, they were going to have to move very fast to secure their objective.

  They dismounted at a signal from a Scout and headed northeast across country, with Ben setting a steady but distance-eating route step. The operation on Ben’s bad knee had proven to be one hundred percent effective. But he still carried with him – unbeknownst to everyone except Linda and his personal team – a good knee brace. Just in case.

  At the river’s edge, the Rebels looked with dismay at what appeared to be rowboats.

  “Those are rowboats,” Jersey said. “We’re going to cross the river in those?”

  “George Washington did,” Ben said with a cheerfulness he really did not feel.

  “I’m seasick already,” Cooper bitched.

  “Shut up and get in the damn boat, Coop,” Jersey said.

  “Quickly now, lads and ladies,” a Free Irish guerrilla said. “Time’s a-wastin’. The patrol boat just passed and it’ll be fifteen minutes ’fore it returns. That is, if it stays on schedule.”

  “And if it doesn’t?” Cooper asked.

  The Irishman grinned. “Why, son, we’ll all be dead and gone to Hay-ven, now, won’t we?”

  “Jesus!” Cooper said. “On top of being seasick, I got to worry about drowning.”

  “Cooper,” Jersey warned him, “you barf on me and I swear I’ll shove you over the side.”

  “I can’t swim!”

  “Then don’t get sick, is all I got to say.”

  The crossing was made without the return of the patrol boat or Cooper getting sick. The small boats were pulled up on the bank and hidden, and the Free Irish joined the Rebels for the march to Ballinasloe.

  “Clear on Dan’s end,” Corrie said, after receiving a bump from the Englishman.

  “Any word from my people?” Ike asked.

  “No, sir. Wait a sec. Yeah. Hang on, sir.” She listened and smiled. “All clear for our objective. Both teams are waiting under the bridges for the action to start.”

  “All right!” Ike said.

  “Down!” the point man said, just a second before machine-gun fire ripped him apart.

  “God damn it!” Ben said. “Corrie, it’s in the fire now. Tell our people under the bridges to go. Give us a diversion of some sort. Buddy, knock out that .50 over there.”

  Moments later a half dozen grenades sailed through the air and the machine-gun emplacement was blown out of action.

  And the Rebels were not yet inside the town limits.

  “Ike!” Ben yelled on the run. “Take C and D Compani
es and swing around that way. A and B Companies, come with me!”

  “God bless you, boys!” an elderly woman yelled from the darkened window of her cottage.

  “Get them dirty bastards!” her husband shouted from her side, his ill-fitting false teeth clacking. “You find that filthy Jack Hunt, stick the barrel of your weapon up his arse, and pull the trigger.”

  “Michael O’Finnelan!” his wife said. “You hush that kind of talk!”

  Linda laughed as she jogged alongside of Ben. “The Irish will never change, Ben.”

  “I hope not,” he panted.

  They rounded a curve in the road and saw dozens of headlights bearing down on them a good half mile away.

  “Both sides of the road and stagger. Ambush positions,” Ben yelled. “Now!”

  The road was suddenly empty as Rebels bellied down on the grass on both sides and waited.

  The vehicles were coming fast, and they were trucks, the beds filled with armed men. Ben grinned. “Beautiful,” he said to Jersey. “Corrie, tell everyone to put it on full rock-and-roll and let it sing. Have every fourth person toss grenades.”

  “That’s ten-four, sir.”

  The men of Jack Hunt’s army and the traitorous Irish among them rode smack into an ambush. M-16’s, CAR-15’s, Stoners, M-14’s, and grenades turned the mounted column into a burning, smoking death trap. The Rebels took no prisoners, nor would they take any on this excursion, not after seeing what Jack Hunt’s men did to the civilian population.

  The SEALs and Special Operations people had raised hell with those guards at the foot of the bridges and were now moving into the towns, moving silently and swiftly and deadly.

  “Blow the damn bridges!” the order was given.

  Nothing happened.

  “Do it!” the commanders of Jack Hunt’s forces in Ballinasloe and Banagher screamed into their mics.

  But the SEALs and SO teams had taken the charges from the bridges and deactivated them.

  The silence from the bridges seemed loud in the night.

  “We’ve lost contact with an entire company, sir,” the radio operator told the commander in Ballinasloe. “They don’t respond to my calls.”