"Candy ass kid," Al said, contempt in his voice. "Ignore him, guys."

  "I agree with John," a Federal called. "We can't dig them out, Al. We can't breach that rise."

  Ben and Anna waited in silence.

  "Then get on the damn radio and call for help," Al yelled. "Edgar? You hear me?"

  "Edgar's dead," Al was told. "He was the first to get hit. I ain't about to try for the radio."

  "Shit!" Al said. "What the hell are we supposed to do? We've got to take those people. It's our job, damnit!"

  "We're on our own, Al. Best thing we can do is wait them out," another soldier called.

  "All night long?"

  "If we have to, yeah. Maybe then we'll have some help."

  "Help? Are you kidding? The whole damn convoy is gone. The road's impassable. The bridges are gone. The brigade's nearly wiped out. Help?

  From where?"

  Green troops again, Ben thought. Very few of them have ever been tested in battle. Many of the noncoms seem to have no combat experience.

  Ben wondered what percentage of the Federal Army was green. Probably a very large portion, he concluded. And not very well trained, either. If Madame President Osterman insists on a war with us, it's going to be a slaughter for the Federals- at least until they get some combat time behind them.

  "These people are bullshit," Anna called softly. "They don't know the first thing about tactics."

  "Of course not," Ben replied in a stage whisper. "The USA has turned into a unisex society. No difference in boys and girls. No parent who supports the New Left would dream of allowing their children to play with toy guns. No

  269

  such games as cowboys and Indians. They aren't allowed. That wouldn't be politically correct."

  "What the hell do the boys play with?"

  "Dolls and tea sets."

  ?You're joking!''

  "Nope. 'Fraid not."

  "Good God!"

  Ben smiled as he looked at the luminous hands of his watch. Seven more minutes until the choppers arrived.

  "Keep a grenade handy," he told Anna. "It won't be long now."

  "They won't be able to land. Mines."

  "They'll hover until we can get on board. Don't worry, Baby. We're nearly home free."

  "My bubble bath. At last,"

  "Hell with this!" one of the Federals yelled. He jumped up and ran out of the timber, a couple of his buddies with him, vague zig-zagging shadows in the night, heading straight for the high ground.

  The zig-zagging stopped abruptly as Ben and Anna opened fire, each of them burning a full magazine into the hostile night. One of the Federals went down, and was silent. The other two went down on the ground, badly wounded. They jerked and moaned in pain, calling out for help.

  No help came out of the timber, only the faint sounds of cursing.

  Ben and Anna quickly slipped home fresh mags and waited on the crest of the small hill.

  "You copy, Eagle?" Ben's radio crackled.

  "I copy, Rescue. We're waiting."

  "Two minutes, Eagle. Four gunships will neutralize the area north of your position."

  "Ten-four, Rescue. We'll keep our heads down. We'll mark the hostile area with grenades."

  "We know where you are, Eagle. Just keep your heads down and let us do our thing."

  270

  Ben smiled as he keyed the mike. "That's affirmative, Rescue. Will do."

  Seconds later the throbbing sounds of helicopters could be heard in the darkness behind the pair on the rise of ground. Half a minute later the timber north of the rise exploded as the gunships unleashed all their deadly fury. The gunships cut loose with dozens of 2.75-inch folding fin rockets and 30mm chain guns. Each of the attack choppers carried over seventy of the deadly anti-personnel rockets, and the front edge of the timber quickly turned into a killing ground. Nothing was going to survive that pounding. Indeed, none of the Federal troops even got off a shot as the attacking helicopters turned the edge of the timber into a smoking strip of destruction.

  A helicopter slowly began settling down over the crest of the high ground until its runners were only a few feet off the ground. Ben and Anna left their gear and quickly climbed on board. One of the crew assisting the pair gave them a big grin and the thumbs-up sign.

  Ben smiled and returned the gesture as he and Anna buckled themselves in. The chopper turned and roared off into the night, heading south.

  Toward home.

  Ben slept for six hours and awakened refreshed. His feet were still a bit sore from all the walking in shoes not made for hiking, but other than that he felt fine.

  The rescue chopper had set down at a base in Northern Arkansas, and Ben and Anna had immediately boarded a small jet and were flown the rest of the way to Base Camp One. Anna had gone home, to her small apartment only a few blocks from where Ben lived.

  Ben was scheduled to meet with Ike and Cecil later on that day. Ike was to bring him up to date on all military actions that had taken place since he had been gone, Cecil to bring him up to date on the political front.

  Ben learned one thing that had both saddened and 271

  angered him: President Altman was dead. The official word from Madame President Osterman's government was that he died after a massive heart attack. Ben believed that about as much as he believed he could fly a jet fighter plane ... and Ben was no pilot. There was not a doubt in Ben's mind that Osterman had ordered Altman's death. The two had never really seen eye to eye back before the Great War and the collapse.

  After another long, hot, soapy shower (he had taken one upon arriving home) and a careful shave which included removal of his moustache, Ben took his coffee and went outside to sit on the front porch and relax and read that day's paper.

  The news was not good.

  The paper was filled with war talk and stories about how the Rebels had thrown back repeated attempts by government troops to cross the SUSA's borders.

  Ben finally folded the paper and laid it aside. He knew war was looming; he did not need to be reminded of it. He was not looking forward to it, at all.

  Ben finished his coffee and went inside to dress: BDUs and boots. Then he got into his HumVee and drove over to the capital building for his meeting with Cecil and Ike.

  "It's official, Ben," Cecil said as soon as Ben was seated and had a mug of coffee. He held up a sheet of paper. "This was brought to me by courier, about an hour ago ... direct from the United States Department of State. A state of war now exists between the USA and the SUSA."

  Ben took a sip of coffee. Just right. "Have you informed our allies?"

  "Not yet. But it won't come as any surprise to any of them. They have already assured me of their neutrality."

  "In writing?"

  "Yes. And President Osterman has also been informed."

  Ben smiled. "I can just see that socialistic bitch bouncing off the walls of the new oval office."

  Cecil was in no mood for humor, having been on the phone with heads of state from around the world for the

  272

  past few hours, but he had to smile at the mental image of Claire Osterman having one of her famous snits.

  Ike belched at the thought, and Ben and Cecil laughed at their old friend. Ike lifted a hand and waggled a finger. "It ain't funny, boys,"

  he said. "That damn woman hates us all. She hates us so much she'll do anything to destroy us."

  Cecil sobered abruptly. "Ike's right, Ben. And after these recent humiliating defeats of her Federals at every move, and you and Anna slipping through her net to safely, she'll be blind with fury."

  Ben nodded. "Oh, I'm well aware of that, Cecil. Remember, I know the woman. But what, really, can she do that we can't confront and defeat?

  The answer is nothing at all." Ben paused and sighed. "Even though ..."

  Cecil picked it up. "Even though it will destroy both nations in the end, right, Ben?"

  "That's about the size of it, Cece. Unless you have some viable alternative. Do you?"

  Cece shook his head. "No. Not really. Nothing that would be acceptable to any of us, or to ninety-nine point nine percent of the residents of the SUSA."

  Ben spread his hands. "So there you have it. What choice does it leave us?"

  Ike and Cecil looked at him and said nothing for a moment. Ike finally broke the silence. "Well, here we go again, boys."

  "Sure looks that way, Ike," Ben replied.

  "I don't know what else I can do, diplomatically," Cecil said. ?I believe I have exhausted all peaceful options except for total unconditional surrender."

  "And that's what Sugar Babe is demanding?" Ben asked.

  "Total unconditional surrender and the dissolution of the SUSA-yes, that is what she is calling for."

  "Fuck that," Ike said bluntly.

  "Yes," Ben said. "That is not an option."

  Ben rose from his chair and walked to a window that looked out on a street. He stood and stared out for a

  273

  moment. In the SUSA, around the capital building, there were no closed streets or huge concrete barriers. The capital was as open as could possibly be. There were guards, of course, both in uniform and plainclothes. And there were restrictions about civilians carrying weapons in and around government buildings.

  In the SUSA, terrorists and those who would harm an elected official in the capital had a very short life span. Assassination attempts had been made on a few occasions, but had never been successful. The assassins had been tried, convicted, and hanged in a manner of days, not years.

  Ben turned from the window. "Put us on the highest alert, Cecil. Travel outside our borders into the USA is forbidden. Advise the citizens that we are now officially in a state of war with the United States of America."

  274

  275

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Ben and Ike split up the SUSA. Ike would command troops in Louisiana, Arkansas, Texas, Mississippi, and Alabama. Ben would take the eastern states of Tennessee, Florida, Virginia, Georgia, North and South Carolina.

  The states of Oklahoma, Missouri, Kentucky, and West Virginia were split as to loyalties. Parts of Southern Illinois went with the SUSA, in spirit at least.

  "Where do you want my CP, Ben?" Ike asked.

  "We'll float, Ike. For a time, anyway. Until we see how the wind blows."

  Ben would personally direct the 501, 503, 504, and 505 Brigades and all the reserves, Home Guard, and civilian militia in the states in his sector. Ike would command his 502, the other brigades, and the reserves, Home Guard, and militias in his sector.

  The Rebels began making final preparations for a sustained, all-out war with the USA.

  Factories began working around the clock, seven days a week now. Ben had personally visited the lab and nutrition people and told them in no uncertain terms that they had better start producing a field ration that tasted good,

  276

  because if they didn't his next visit was going to be goddamned unpleasant.

  Furthermore, he added, "This highly nutritious and vitamin-packed crap you people have been turning out tastes like boiled camel shit smells!

  Whatever you have left of it, destroy it and the recipe for it!''

  The lab people got the message, loud and clear.

  Ben gathered his team at his house one evening for hamburgers, beer, some conversation, and one last peaceful gathering before they hit the road.

  "Cooper," Ben said as he turned hamburger patties on the outside grill,

  "our transportation ready to roll?"

  "Serviced and sittin' on ready, Boss. When do we pull out?"

  "Day after tomorrow, oh five hundred."

  Cooper looked at Jersey and smiled. "That's five bucks you owe me."

  "What's this about?" Ben asked him.

  "Scuttlebutt had it we'd pull out day after tomorrow at dawn. Jersey bet me it was wrong."

  Ben cut his eyes to Jersey. "You're losing your touch, Little Bit."

  She shrugged. "I have to let him win every now and then. If I don't, he pouts."

  There wasn't a lot of kidding or horseplay among the team members that evening, and that didn't come as any surprise to Ben. He was sure he knew exactly how each member felt, for he felt the same way: none of them were happy about the upcoming war against other Americans, with the possible exception of Anna. There was a lot of hate in her for the FPPS, and Ben certainly could not blame her for the way she felt. Anna had been raped several times during her time with those rogue agents.

  Ben did not like to think about what might happen to any FPPS agent that Anna took captive. Unless he was there to intervene it would be unpleasant. He was sure of that.

  Just before the gathering broke up early that evening, 277

  Ben told his team, "Gear up, people. I'll see you all in about thirty-six hours."

  The team helped Ben clean up, and then left. Ben fixed a cup of coffee and sat on his porch, watching the neighborhood kids finish their playing for that day in the waning moments of summer daylight; soon their parents would be calling them in for baths before bedtime.

  In the SUSA parents were not afraid to allow their children to play outside. In all of the SUSA, child molestation was almost unheard of.

  Molesting a child in the SUSA was one sure way for a pervert to guarantee himself a very short life. Punishment for molesting a child was certain to be very quick and very final. There were no mutterings of psychiatrists about how the pervert's psyche had been bruised as a child because his mother had been frightened by a catfish ... or some other such blathering bullshit as was so often allowed in courts outside the SUSA.

  A couple of neighborhood kids rode their bicycles past Ben's house and waved and called a greeting. Ben smiled and waved at the kids. It was a tranquil scene. Something right out of Norman Rockwell, Ben thought as he drank his coffee and listened to the sounds of kids at play.

  And why not? he silently questioned. Isn't this the way it's supposed to be: A neighborhood where kids can play safely and parents can allow them to play without worry? A neighborhood made up of individuals, each person with his own likes and dislikes about TV programs and reading material and music, people who agree-for the most part-on law and order, and right and wrong, and morals and values and honor?

  "It's damn sure worth fighting to preserve," Ben muttered. He drank his coffee and went into his house to watch some television, but there was nothing on that he cared to see. He looked over his selection of video tapes and couldn't find anything that piqued his interest, either.

  "Well, to hell with it," Ben muttered. He was just about to call it a day and go to bed when his phone rang.

  "Ben," Cece said, "the Federals have broken through 278

  our lines and crossed the border in three places. You'd better get down to the ready room, right now."

  "On my way."

  Ben beeped Corrie. "Get the team together and out to the airport. Stand by to travel. Have Coop get the wagon ready. I'll be in the ready room with Cecil and Ike."

  Ike was staring at a huge wall map of North America when Ben walked in.

  Ike turned to face him.

  "Ben," drawled the Mississippi born Ike. "The Federals busted through in my sector right up here in this little bitty corner where New Mexico and Oklahoma meet. They spread out all over this grassland area here, and are pushing the Home Guard back. Regular troops are still not in there.

  It'll be several more days before they can plug the hole."

  "And in my sector?" Ben asked, walking over to the map, his face grim and set in anger.

  Ike thumped the map. "Central Tennessee, and up here in Western Virginia. They poured across in Tennessee. Intel says they must have been coming in small groups for days, as civilians. Ben, we're so goddamned spread out we can't rely on intel anymore. It either comes in too late, or doesn't come in at all."

  "I know, Ike, I know. We've got a couple of thousand miles of border to protect."

  Ben traced the long border with a finger. "But they've got the same thing to protect with a lot of green troops. And there is this: many of the residents of the USA are just not going to fight. They don't have anything to fight with. The government up there has outlawed militias and taken away the citizens' firearms, and a very large percentage of those chicken-shit liberals who chose to live up there are just too damned yellow to fight. They want somebody else to do their fighting for them."

  ?We'll get these holes plugged when all the Home Guard gets mobilized and in place."

  "We don't have time for that, Ike," Ben told him. "Get 279

  all our fighters and bombers and gunships in the air, and tell them to get ready to go to work."

  Ben turned to Cecil. "Cece, I've got an idea. Have you a line to Madame President Osterman?"

  "Oh, yes. One has been established."

  "I would appreciate it if you would give that bitch a bump and warn her that the consequences will be dire if she continues to push this war."

  "I'll do that, Ben." Cecil smiled. "Buying a little time, are we, Ben?"

  Ben returned the smile. "You better believe it, ole' buddy. I sure am.

  The longer we can stall that socialistic feminazi the better off we'll be."

  "I'll get right on it."

  "I've got troops moving as fast as is humanly possible, Ben," Ike said.

  "If we can stall Madame President for three days we'll be in place. Just three days."

  Ike grinned at Cecil. "Cece, you could always offer to fuck her."

  Cecil suddenly looked as though he was about to barf. Ben was still laughing as he walked out of the office.

  280

  281

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  The scene beneath them was peaceful as the big cargo planes roared north to a Rebel base in Southern Tennessee. The fields thousands of feet below looked fresh and green in the early summer.

  Ben had been unusually silent during the flight from Base Camp One, and his team had not made any attempt to break into his thoughts. For all his worldwide reputation as a warrior Ben had thought of and rejected a dozen or more ways to possibly avoid a war that was sure to tear the nation apart.