“Oh, Mark! How could you even think such a thing? That’s-was
“No, Peggy, let me finish. This is something-what I’m about to say-I argued and debated with Al many times. And I think, I believe, the events of the day before yesterday prove me right. There is still a lot of hate among the races in this country; and it is not one-sided as Al used to preach. I’m sorry he was killed; he was coming around, getting his head on straight. The nation, if there is to be a nation, cannot exist the way we were going. I mean, Hispanics in one part of the country, blacks in another, whites in yet another. Damn it, Peggy, that isn’t democracy. Our young people aren’t-weren’t-getting an accurate picture of life. I’m not African-I’m an American. I don’t speak Swahili-I speak English. Al could never understand,
I could never make him see, that I didn’t give two hoots in hell about the internal politics of Uganda. I was too concerned about what was happening in this nation. I don’t want to wear tribal robes and stick a bone in my nose. Jesus Christ. That was part of the problem with many whites refusing to accept blacks.
“Look at Cecil Jefferys; he’s never had any problem in his entire life being accepted-anywhere. And do you know why? I’ll tell you why: He dressed well; he spoke proper English and insisted his kids do the same. He didn’t try to excuse bad grammar by saying it was part of the black culture. He knew, just as I know, that is pure bullshit. Bad grammar is bad grammar. Period. I cannot for the life of me conjure up any image of Vice President Jefferys doing any shuckin” and jivin’.”
Peggy laughed aloud at the expression on Mark’s face.
“You mean Mr. Jefferys calls a spade a spade?” she said with a grin.
“I’ll have to remember that one,” Mark said, returning her smile. “Cecil will get a kick out of that. Yes, that’s true, Peggy. He calls a spade a spade. Cecil, as does Ben Raines, knows there are classes of people: just as there are bigoted, ignorant rednecks in the white race, there are ignorant, bigoted niggers in the black race.” He smiled at her. “Sorry, Peggy-I didn’t mean to preach at you.”
“No, it’s all right. I like what you’ve said. Go on.”
“All right, I’ll lay it all out for you. I’m linking up with Ben Raines. I think that’s what we have to do if any of us are going to make out of this situation. Those people back there-was he jerked his thumb-“if
they want to live under those rules, those conditions, those ideas that Ben and Ike and Cecil put forward-then fine, that’s what we’ll do. I’ll put what happened on the ridges out of my mind, forgive, if not forget, and we’ll join Ben Raines and try to beat this IPF thing. Those that want to go on back to New Africa and stick a goddamn bone in their noses … well, to hell with them.”
Her dark, serious eyes never left his face. “You must think Ben Raines hung the moon and the stars in the heavens, Mark.”
He shook his head. “No, I don’t think that at all, Peggy. Ben Raines is just a man, with faults like all the rest of us. And I don’t agree with all he says. As a matter of fact, I hated him at first. Until I began to wise up to what he was saying: no free rides. And then he began to make sense to me. His Tri-States worked, Peggy. It really worked. All races lived there, honey. All races. And Ben Raines did it. He made it work.”
“I’ve never met the man. But I have seen his picture.”
“He’s …” Mark paused, searching for the correct words. “Ben Raines is impressive. He … exudes power and confidence. And something else, you may as well hear it from me: A lot of people believe Ben Raines sits awfully close to a higher power.”
Disbelief sprang into her eyes. “And what do you believe, Mark?”
Mark sighed, many different emotions surging through his mind. “I… don’t know. I don’t want to believe that. But I’ve heard so many stories about him. And I know that many of them are fact. Peggy, the man’s been shot two dozen times; he’s been stabbed,
blown up, shot off mountains and fallen God knows how far. Name it, and it’s happened to Ben Raines. But he won’t die.” A frightened look replaced the doubtful look in her eyes. She again searched his face. “Mark, are you sure of what you’re saying?”
“Yes.” His reply came quickly and quietly and surely. “I am positive.”
“Then I think we should join your Mr. Raines.”
And the legend of Ben Raines surged forward.
Mark and Peggy stood by the side of the road and waited for the troops to reach them. When they drew close, Mark stepped into the center of the weed-filled, cracked old road. He held up his hand.
The convoy stopped and the troops got out to face Mark.
Some four hundred men and women stood facing him; many would not meet his hard eyes.
“Here it is,” Mark spoke firmly. “As far as I am concerned, New Africa is no more.” He noticed only a few stirring at his words. “Those pf you who wish to follow me, you’re welcome. Personally, I am linking up with Ben Raines and his people. If he will have me, I will live where he lives, and live under his rules. Do not think that Ben Raines would have behaved as I did a few days ago. If Ben Raines had ordered you to shoot, and you refused, you would not be standing on this highway this day, for Ben Raines would have personally shot you for disobeying an order. I’m not that hard; I should have done that, but I couldn’t. Ben Raines would have done it without blinking, and so will I if it ever occurs again. You will never disgrace my command again-and live to speak of it. Ben Raines is
hard; that’s why he is a survivor and you people are slinking along the road with your tails tucked between your legs like whipped dogs. And if you’re not afraid to fight, if you think you can obey orders, and if you love freedom and liberty, follow me. I’ll take you to Ben Raines.”
Juan Solis, his brother, Alvaro, and several hundred followers pulled into Ben’s new command post and base camp six days after their defeat. Juan walked up to Ben and the two men shook hands.
“These are all I could convince to join me, Ben,” Juan said. “When my troops witnessed that … awfulness, it seemed to take the fight out of many of my men. I told them they were making a mistake.”
“Don’t they know that eventually General Striganov will move against them?”
Alvaro shook his head and said, “We tried to tell them, General Raines. Both of us. But they were too numbed by what happened for it to sink in. I am afraid that for many of them, when if finally does sink in, it will be too late.”
“Mark Terry pulled in yesterday with about five hundred troops,” Ben said. “He told me if I’d have them, they want to join us, not temporarily, but on a full-time basis. New Africa is, according to Mark, no more. He gave quite a speech to his people, so I hear. Said we were wrong-all of us-in living the way we were. You and I have spoken of that, Juan.”
The Mexican shook his head. “Yes, and to a point I agree with Mark. I am very disappointed in my people, Ben. I can understand what they did-their refusal
to fire-but I cannot forgive it. I simply cannot. So, Ben Raines, we are here. I will not return to lead a people whose men have lost their cojones. I, and these hundred who follow me, now wish to pledge our loyalties to you, General. You lead; we shall follow and obey.”
And again, Ben asked the silent question to which he had yet to receive a reply: Why me?
CHAPTER FOUR
The IPF had not come out of the battle with Raines’s Rebels smelling like the proverbial rose. They had lost more men than all three brigades fighting against them combined. But Striganov could better afford the heavy loss of personnel and equipment, for he had fresh troops coming in from Iceland, and still more behind those in reserve. If he chose to go in that direction.
But the Russian general who dreamed of a master race did not choose to go that route. He knew, now, the fierceness of President-General Ben Raines. He knew, now, that those who followed Ben Raines would follow him and fight to the death. And he knew, from scouts’ reports, contingents from the Mexican and black brigades had once more linked up with Raines, and those racially inferior people had also pledged to fight to the death alongside Raines’s Rebels.
Well, Striganov mused, let them fight and let them die. Their struggles would be in vain. The Russian had
no doubts about that; nothing clouded his mind; nothing within the Russian suggested that his dream of a master race would be unsuccessful. He felt, from studying history, that if Hitler had not committed so many troops to the Russian front, the little paper hanger would have won the war and chased the Allies right back into the English Channel.
