Triumph in the ashes, p.27
Triumph in the Ashes,
p.27
The doctor hesitated, his forehead wrinkling in concern for his patient.
“I am not fully trained in burn treatment when the burns are so extensive, I fear, and there is none of the expensive equipment available here locally to repair tissue damage this severe.”
Bruno tried to move his hand to grab the doctor’s arm, but almost screamed at the pain the movement caused.
“Who are you?” he managed to croak through a throat that felt as if he had gargled ground glass.
“My name is Mati Ghanna. I was educated in India, and our medical training was sorely lacking in many areas. There are but a few doctors in Madagascar, and I doubt any of them has the knowledge to do more for you. I hope you understand. Madagascar is still a primitive country in many respects, and we are lacking in much of what modern medicine can provide. I can only do the best I can for you.”
“Who else survived?” Bruno asked, trying to speak while moving his charred lips as little as possible.
“A man named Jules. The other is Rudolf.”
“I must speak . . . to Rudolf immediately. Or to Sergei.”
“I’m afraid Rudolf is still unconscious, as is Jules. Sergei is here, standing outside the door.”
“Send . . . him in.”
“As you wish, Mr. Bottger.”
A door opening, then closing. Sergei’s face appeared above Bruno’s bed, a wrinkled face below a mane of curly blond hair.
“The gold,” Bruno whispered. “What . . . happened to the gold in the chopper?”
“It is safe, General Field Marshal. Some of the bars melted down. We stored it in the basement room with the other gold and silver.”
“And only Jules and Rudolf survived?”
“Yes, and they are as badly burned as you are. Jules may not live, the doctor said. The chances are fifty-fifty for Rudolf. The burns are quite bad for all three of you.”
“How badly . . . am I disfigured? Tell me the truth.”
Sergei’s face showed concern. “You will require extensive reconstructive surgery. Your face is covered with burns . . . the skin was melted almost down to the bone. The doctor says there will be extensive scar tissue.”
“Give me ... a mirror.”
“I would advise against it, General Field Marshal. It is not something you would care to look at now. It would be best to wait until time has healed some of the worst wounds.”
“Get me a mirror!”
Moments later, he gasped, then screamed in horror at what he saw peering back at him from the mirror.
He lay in bed in the darkened room. Three weeks had passed since the crash. A small mirror rested on a night table beside the bed. His brain awash in the glow of morphine, he tried to think logically despite the constant throbbing of pain from head to toe. And to remember bits and pieces of things Sergei told him over the past few days, when he was conscious enough to listen to and understand what was said.
Ben Raines and his Rebels had taken Pretoria, killing or capturing all New World soldiers. All of Africa was under the Rebels’ control, with new governments being established in most African countries, according to short wave radio broadcasts.
Once again, Bruno’s attempt at world domination had been smashed by Raines.
Jules was dead. Rudolf Hessner was recovering. The site of the helicopter crash had been covered with jungle plants, and as far as Sergei knew no one was looking for them here.
Sergei, on Bruno’s orders, had executed the doctor and taken his supply of morphine and other painkillers. Bruno’s recovery would be slow, and it could be months before his pain lessened to any extent.
Since there were no rehabilitative facilities in this country, he would be forced to do it on his own—the constant exercises to prevent contractures of his joints and skin, the debriding of dead and injured skin inch by inch, with only the most minute amounts of morphine to dull the terrible agony having his skin pulled off little by little caused.
They were hidden away in the villa. He was alive, but badly scarred and partially blind. His blue contact lenses had melted during the fire. The gold and silver was secure in a vault in the villa’s basement. For now, he was safe here. And he still had a fortune in precious metals.
Very slowly he reached for the mirror and held it up to his face. What he saw resembled a monster, a disfigured creature from someone’s worst nightmares. His face and skull were masses of angry red granulation tissue and newly forming white scar tissue. He had no hair, no eyebrows or eyelashes, and a twisted piece of skin for a nose. His ears had been burned almost completely off, leaving only ridges of tissue surrounding holes in the side of his head. His lips were crusted flaps of burnt skin, and part of his tongue was missing. When he spoke his words were slurred, and his food had no taste at all.
To make matters worse, his genitals were mutilated beyond repair. He could urinate, though at the cost of incredible pain, but would forever be without sexual function. He would never father a child to carry on his dynasty.
“I’ll get you, Raines,” he said. “The next time I swear I will destroy you. You haven’t heard the last of me....”
He tossed the mirror on the floor, hearing it shatter below the bed. Staring at the ceiling, he vowed to make Raines pay for what had happened to him.
For the present he was in hiding, a distorted caricature of a man, a hairless mass of scars and twisted flesh that would be frightening to anyone who saw him now. Surgery to repair his face would require years of grafting, and a specialist who knew what he was doing.
He could afford the best doctors in the world. Price would be no object. And as his physical appearance changed, so would his circumstances. He would contact Wu Sing in China very soon, and begin forming his plans for an alliance with Wu Sing’s secret warrior society.
They could begin buying weapons, hiding them in parts of Mongolia, awaiting the day to launch a new attack on SUSA and the Tri-States.
“I’ll be back, Raines!” he promised, his voice like the roar of a wounded lion.
Thirty-eight
Ben and Ike were conferring in Ben’s new CP in an abandoned building in Pretoria.
“Do you really think it’s that serious?” Ike asked.
“Yeah, Ike. Cecil Jefferys bumped me last night. He says he has definite intelligence that the NUS and EUS have cemented their alliance, are now calling themselves the NEUS, and plan to try to attack The SUSA before we can get our troops back to back him up.”
“Damn! What are we gonna do?”
“I’m going to pack up the 501 and as much materiel as our C130s can handle and rush back to the States. It may not be enough to win if they start a war, but I can damn sure slow them down until you and the rest of the Rebel Army can get back by ship.”
“I don’t like this, Ben. Why can’t I go with you?”
“Because, old friend, I need someone with your exceptional organizational skills to remain here to make sure the troops and supplies get moving as fast as possible. I’m gonna need you there as soon as you can possibly make it.”
Ike narrowed his eyes. “There are some corners I can cut to speed up the process. I was hoping to give the men a short rest, but I guess that’s out of the question now.”
Ben nodded. “They can rest on the voyage back to America. That, along with the time it takes you to get the ships loaded, should give them at least a couple of weeks. ”
“How about air support?”
“Captain Holland has assured me he can get the PUFFs and fighters over there in less than a week, using air-to-air refueling and some of the island bases still friendly to us. Unfortunately the choppers can’t be refueled in the air, and will have to be carried over by ships.”
“Hey, we didn’t bring all the Apaches and Hueys with us to Africa. There are still some older models, and some that needed parts, in the States.”
Ben snapped his fingers. “That’s right. I had forgotten that.”
He turned to Corrie. “Corrie, get on the horn to the base in Corpus Christi where they repair our helicopters and tell them to get cookin’. We’re gonna need them ready to fly within forty-eight hours.”
“Yes, Boss. I’m on it,” she said, as she reached for her radio microphone.
“And tell them to double the security on the base, just in case those assholes in NEUS think of it, too.”
“What are you going to do about Bottger, Ben?” Ike asked.
“Nothing for now. I’ve got to get home to help Cece out first. Everything else has to take a backseat.”
He grinned. “Besides, as you said, without any money or troops, what harm can he cause?”
Thirty-nine
Bruno lay in bed while Sergei adjusted the dials on a radio sitting on a nightstand beside the bed. Sergei looked up as he found a garbled speaker’s voice on the dial. Radio transmissions in Madagascar were subject to weather conditions and the strength of the signal, and thus were frequently plagued by static and overriding of other signals.
“They said an announcement was forthcoming from a station in Johannesburg,” Sergei said. “It is a special broadcast to be given by General Ben Raines. It’s being relayed all over the continent of Africa. The speech will be translated into all Bantu dialects as well as English.”
Bruno’s fists closed despite the pain in his badly burned hands. He stared blankly at the ceiling while the static crackled from the radio’s speaker.
“We have a message from General Raines,” someone announced.
A deeper voice began speaking.
“As advocates and supporters of the Tri-States philosophy, we believe that freedom, like respect, is earned, and must be constantly nurtured and protected from those who would take it away. We believe in the right of every law-abiding citizen to protect his or her life, liberty, and personal property by any means at hand, without fear of arrest, criminal prosecution, or lawsuit. The right to bear arms is essential to maintaining true personal freedom.
“We believe that politicians, theorists, and socialists are the greatest threat to freedom-loving peoples, and that their misguided efforts have caused grave injustices in the fields of criminal law, education, and public welfare.
“Therefore, with respect to criminal law, an effective criminal justice system should be guided by these basic tenets:
“Our courts must stop pampering criminals.
“The punishment must fit the crime.
“Justice must be fair but also swift and, if necessary, harsh.
“There is no perfect society. Only a fair one.
“Therefore, with respect to education, education is the key to solving problems in any society, and the lack of it is the root cause of a country’s decline.
“An effective system of education must stress hard discipline along with the arts, sciences, fine music, and basic skills in reading, writing, and mathematics. It must teach fairness and respect. It must teach morals, the dignity of labor, and the value of the family.
“Therefore, with respect to welfare. Welfare—we prefer workfare—is reserved only for the elderly, infirm, and those who need a temporary helping hand.
“And the welfare system must also instill the concept of honest work for honest pay. Instill the concept that everyone who can work must work, be forced to work if necessary.
“It must instill the concept that there is no free lunch, and that being productive citizens in a free society is the only honorable path to take.
“And that racial prejudice and bigotry are intolerable in a free and vital society. No one is worthy of respect simply because of the color of his or her skin. Respect is earned by actions and by deeds, not by birthright.
“There are only two types of people on earth . . . decent and indecent. Those who are decent will flourish, and those who are not will perish. No laws laid down by a body of government can make one person like another.
“A free and just society must be protected at all costs, even if it means shedding the blood of its citizens. The willingness of citizens to lay down their lives for the belief in freedom is a cornerstone of true democracy. Without that willingness the structure of society will surely crumble and fall into the ashes of history.
“Therefore, along with the inalienable right to bear arms and the inalienable right to personal protection, a strong, skilled, and well-equipped military is essential to maintaining a free society.
“A strong military eliminates the need for allies, allowing the society to focus on the needs of its citizens.
“The business of citizens is not the business of the world unless the rights of citizens are infringed upon by outside forces.
“The duty of those who live in a free society is clear, and personal freedom is not negotiable.
“In conclusion, we who support the Tri-State philosophy and live by its code and its laws pledge to defend it by any means necessary. We pledge to work fairly and justly to rebuild and maintain a society in which all citizens are truly free, and are able to pursue productive lives without fear and without intervention.”
A pause. Bruno turned his face to the radio.
“This is how we live. We hope the continent of Africa will be governed that way someday.” Raines continued. “For too long the people of Africa have been dominated by a man calling himself Bruno Bottger, and a political system he has named The New World Order. As of this date, The New World Order no longer exists on the African continent. This period of Nazi-style government has come to an end. Elections will be held, and the people of Africa will be free to govern themselves. Bruno Bottger and his army of Nazis have been defeated. You have nothing to fear from him now. He has either been killed or driven from Africa, and his soldiers are prisoners of the Rebels.”
Bruno raised his head off the pillow, his face a mask of hatred and pain. “To hell with you, Raines. I’ll be back, and I’ll be stronger than ever!”
A final message came from the radio. “Men like Bottger are the root of all evil on this planet. And we pledge, if he is still alive and hiding like the true coward he is, to hunt him down like the jackal he is, as well as all others who oppose the freedom of mankind. Africa is free, and we intend to make sure it remains that way forever.”
Bruno slumped back on the mattress, his teeth gritted behind fire-scarred lips. Though he was concerned that Raines might not believe his staged death, he felt sure no one knew where he was at the present.
“Don’t be too sure of yourself, Raines!” he hissed.
Sergei switched off the radio. Bruno closed his scabbed-over eyelids, planning for the future. Raines felt sure his victory was complete, Bruno thought. I will prove him wrong.
“The next time we meet on the battlefield, Raines, you will face total annihilation. Enjoy your brief moment of triumph, you arrogant bastard. When I arise from these ashes it will be with one purpose . . . to destroy you. And I will! ”
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William W. Johnstone, Triumph in the Ashes
