Ambush in the Ashes (20 page)

“Scouts report a slow troop build-up all around.”

“So this is not going to be an ambush?”

“Doesn’t look that way.”

“And they’re being obvious about it,” Ben questioned.

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“No longer making any attempt to conceal their movements.”

“Odd,” Ben muttered. “They have no tanks, no artillery, only a few mortars and machine guns, and they’re setting up to go head to head with us. That makes no sense.”

Ben opened his map case and carefully went over a map of the region. There was no other route open to them. Ben could not ask for reports from eyes in the sky because the helicopters were all grounded because of the unpredictable weather. Anyway, most of those assigned to Ben had been forced to return to Ghana because there were no other safe landing areas for them to refuel and have maintenance done.

It was all ground work for the Rebels now.

“When we get within range of the junction,” Ben said, “we’ll set up artillery and pound the crap out of the enemy positions. But we’ll be alert for any flanking movements or an attack from the rear. I think that’s what they’ve got in mind. Just as soon as the Scouts report us able to fight our way through the junction, we’ll make a run for it and smash through. If my hunch is right, we’ll catch those attempting to flank us and come up behind us flatfooted and can put some breathing room between us.”

“One hour until we can be in any sort of effective range,” Beth reported, doing some calculations without being told.

“Good enough. Let’s keep our fingers crossed that I’m right about this. Corrie, tell the Scouts they’re going to have to act as FO’s.”

“Right, boss.”

“My company will face north with the artillery, the others will set up left and right and take up rear guard positions.”

“Advising now,” Corrie replied.

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“It’s a pretty good bet that those coming up from behind and flanking will be lightly armed. They’re having to move too fast over lousy terrain to be carrying anything heavy. Maybe a few mortars, but that’s all. When we stop, I want every mortar and Big Thumper we’ve got ready to bang ASAP.”

Corrie was talking to the company commanders even as Ben was speaking. The team had been together so long each member could practically sense what the other would do. With Ben and Corrie, it was almost as if they were hooked into some sort of invisible mental link.

“Forty-five minutes,” Beth said.

“Scouts reporting heavy concentration of enemy build-up nearly complete at junction. They’re dug in tight.”

“In a few minutes, they’re going to wish they’d dug those holes a lot deeper,” Ben said.

“We have movement behind us,” Corrie said. “Scouts who dropped back report a large concentration of troops moving slowly. Maintaining distance. Their vehicles are old, and of various makes, but chugging right along. Scouts have counted fifty trucks, most of them deuce-and-a-halves. All filled to overflowing with troops.”

“Say a minimum of seven hundred and fifty troops coming up behind us.” Ben smiled. “Tell my XO to take over, Corrie. And alert my company we will be falling back to engage the enemy … sort of.”

Corrie hesitated.

Ben chuckled. “Load us up with rocket launchers and claymores and several Big Thumpers. Cooper, there is a small town just up ahead the Scouts have checked out and found deserted. That will be perfect for an ambush. You pull off there. Get on with the orders, Corrie.”

“Ten-four, boss.”

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Corrie ordered the column on, with no break-off other than Ben’s company. She was asked if she wanted several of the tanks with the column to join Ben in the ambush.

“No,” Ben said. “We’ll handle this. The rest of the column has their orders. Carry them out.”

Cooper cut off the road and parked the wagon behind what remained of a building. The other vehicles peeled off and ducked in behind buildings or crashed through the brush and vegetation around the town and disappeared.

“Some of those trucks will have to be winched out when this is over,” Ben said, unassing himself from the front seat of the wagon. “And we’ll probably lose half a day or more doing that. But what the hell? Nobody here has any pressing engagements elsewhere, do they?”

The team laughed at Ben’s sometime odd sense of humor and began unloading weapons from the supply truck that always followed Ben’s vehicle. Anna took her Big Thumper, Cooper his SAW. Corrie, Beth, and Jersey swapped their CARs for regulation M-16’s with bloop tubes. Ben pulled out his old M-14 and a rucksack filled with magazines. Then they quickly followed Ben into the deserted old remains of what had once been a store and took up positions. A rusted old soft-drink sign was still attached to the front of the building, above the front awning. It creaked on rusted braces in the warm light wind.

The monsoonal rains had not yet begun their daily pounding of the earth and only a very soft drizzle was falling.

Within a very few minutes, the Rebels had all taken up positions in and north and south of the town. The vehicles were hidden and the brush and other vegeta-

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tion that had been smashed or driven down by the heavy trucks pulled back and secured in place.

The village appeared to be deserted, just another civilian casualty of war.

It was a death trap for the unsuspecting.

“Enemy column’s ETA twenty-five minutes,” Corrie said.

Ben nodded his head and rolled a smoke. “Tell the people to grab a quick smoke if they want to. Piss now if they have to. Smokes out in five minutes and everybody in position.”

Ben rolled a cigarette, lit up, and asked, “Corrie, Scouts are certain the enemy convoy has no recon working forward?”

“Positive, boss. They’re rolling along pretty sure of themselves.”

“Somebody fucked up,” Ben muttered. “They didn’t do their homework; didn’t study the tactics of their opposition. Bad mistake.”

“They won’t make another one,” Jersey said, chomping on a wad of gum.

“Very true, Jersey,” Ben said, after blowing a smoke ring and watching it disappear in the wind that silently sang through the glass-smashed windows. “If we’re careful and don’t spring the trap too soon. Corrie, tell the troops north of the town to be sure and knock out the first several vehicles. The commander of this force will almost certainly be in one of those vehicles. And we don’t want to give them a chance to radio what’s happening. Lots of ‘if s’ involved here.”

“Enemy convoy has increased speed,” Corrie said. “Fifteen minutes.”

“They’re getting anxious,” Ben replied. “Bad move on their part. Shows another sign of lack of professionalism. They’re going to roll right into this.”

“They won’t roll out of it,” Anna said grimly.

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Ben looked at his adopted daughter. Anna was as cold as ice, as usual.

Ben cut his eyes to Beth, looking at him. She shrugged her shoulders and smiled knowingly. Anna was a warrior, pure and simple, through and through, but one who would always pick the right side, Ben was sure of that. Her years of struggle to survive as a child against the evil of the forces of the nearly overwhelming numbers of warlords and gangs back in her home country had seen to that.

Anna had laid out a long belt of 40mm grenades, filled with anti-personnel grenades. She sat back and waited.

Ben checked his old M-14, known affectionately as a Thunder Lizard, and slipped the fire selector to full auto. It was a punishing weapon to hold and fire at full auto, but it laid down a devastating field of fire.

Cooper had his SAW bi-podded, an extra canister of ammo nearby.

Ben’s team was ready.

“Ten minutes,” Corrie said.

Ben took his position by the window-or what was left of it-nearest the south wall. He stayed well back from the window, in the shadows, and would remain there until the ambush was sprung.

All around the battle-scarred little town, the Rebels waited, silent and motionless.

“Five minutes,” Corrie said softly.

The rain continued to fall, but it had been reduced to only a drizzle.

Finally the Rebels could hear the truck engines as the enemy convoy approached the town.

“Showtime,” Cooper said, pulling back the bolt on his SAW, chambering a round.

The Rebels in town would let the first fifteen or so trucks in the convoy roll on through. The Rebels in

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position on the north side of town would start the ambush. At the first yammer from machine guns, the first crump of grenades, the first whoosh from a rocket launcher, the entire stretched-out company would open up on the unsuspecting convoy. And the quiet, gray-sky, drizzly day would turn into a death trap.

“Play with the big boys,” Ben muttered, his eyes following the first truck as it passed through the town, “and you’re very likely to get your nose bloodied.”

Jersey was the only one of the team to have heard the quiet words, she cut her dark eyes to Ben and smiled.

Ben winked at her.

Then the enemy convoy stopped before the first truck could clear the northern edge of the small town.

“Crap,” Ben muttered. “Now what?”

“What is the matter?” a white man yelled, jumping from the fifth truck in the packed-up-close column.

“The engine is overheating!” came the shout from the lead truck.

“I don’t give a damn if it blows up,” the white officer yelled. “We’re too close now to stop. If the engine fails, we’ll leave the truck and spread the men out among the other vehicles. Now get that goddamn thing moving.”

“All right, all right! Keep your fucking pants on, will you?” came the insolent reply.

“The officers certainly have a great deal of respect for each other, don’t they?” Jersey whispered.

Ben smiled his reply.

“Now what’s wrong?” the first white officer yelled after a few seconds. The enemy column had not moved. The waiting Rebels could hear the sound of a grinding starter.

“The truck won’t start. I told you the engine was overheating. Now it’s locked up, I believe.”

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“It isn’t locked up, you idiot. Oh, never mind. We can’t wait. Push …”

The sound of an engine bursting into life cut off his words as the lead truck’s motor roared.

“Finally. Roll it, roll it!”

The truck’s engine died. The sound of it was so clear it was heard up and down the street.

“Oh, good God!” the officer yelled impatiently.

The starter began grinding.

“Hell with it,” the officer shouted. “Everybody out and the second truck push that vehicle out of the way. We’re wasting too much time. Move it, goddamnit, move it!”

“Colonel!” another voice entered the conversation. “Colonel!”

“What is it?” the now identified commander shouted.

“Something is very wrong here.”

The colonel paused for a heartbeat, looking slowly all around him. He shook his head and yelled. “What are you talking about?”

“There are tire tracks leading left and right off the street. They disappear into the brush and jungle.”

“Tire tracks?”

“Yes, sir. From heavy trucks. Colonel, they’re all up and down the street. Just look, see for yourself.”

“Now it gets interesting,” Ben muttered. “I hope everybody is on their toes.”

“I don’t see any damn tracks!” the colonel yelled. “Where are they?”

“You’re looking at the hard pack in front of that old store. Move left or right where the earth hasn’t been packed down by years of parking. You’ll see them. It’s all very strange.”

“The man is an idiot,” Ben muttered. “I would have put the tracks together immediately.”

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“Oh, very well. I’m looking.” The colonel began walking slowly south, mumbling about a waste of time.

Ben lifted his Thunder Lizard.

“By God!” the colonel yelled. “I see them. It’s probably just …” He paused. His training as a soldier finally kicked in and jogged his brain. “Oh, shit!” he shouted. “Ambush!” he screamed. “Ambush!”

Ben shot him and the gates of Hell swung open, inviting all who would enter to step right up.

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The colonel was slammed back by the heavy rounds from Ben’s M-14. He fell on his back in the mud and did not move. Anna cut loose with her Big Thumper and the two trucks that were parked directly in front of the old building exploded in flames and death and the screaming of wounded men. Cooper shifted the muzzle of his SAW and opened fire on the third, parked south of the burning trucks, before the soldiers who were under canvas in the bed could leap out and run for their lives. The 5.56 rounds hammered out pain and death. The others in Ben’s team sent grenades from their bloop tubes into the parked enemy column at almost point-blank range.

The Rebels lying in wait north of the town did not have to have a signal to know what had happened. They were moving instantly, working closer to the north edge of the town, throwing up a defensive line left and right of the highway.

The jaws of the death trap had been sprung and the dangerous, predatory beast caught in the snare could not free himself and had no place to run even if it could. Those caught could do nothing now except die.

From front and back and both sides, the Rebels hammered out death by bullet, grenade, and rocket. Many of the trucks caught on fire and the fumes from the

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fuel tanks exploded. The ammunition and mortar rounds they were carrying exploded and lead and shrapnel was flying in all directions. The din was deafening and the smoke teared the eyes. The wounded were screaming and the sergeants and officers were yelling orders which could not be heard five feet away and conditions were so confused and disorganized no one would have paid any attention to them if they could be heard.

The Rebels methodically picked off any of the enemy who tried to flee the scene of destruction and death. Ben ended a burning man’s race with death with one round from his M-14. The man was enveloped in flames from his feet to his hair and was running in blind agony.