“Too bloody many,” the Englishman replied. “Counting the wounded, the dead, the desertions, we have had our strength cut by about forty percent. Old General Walker was killed, along with about half of his old soldiers who joined us. Walker died with a rifle in his hands, though. Reports say the old boy killed several of Willette’s men before they gunned him down.”
“Eagle Three is reporting some pockets of resistance still to the east of us. The Scouts say they’ll have it contained in a few hours. I’m sorry about General Walker. I liked that old man. Did he really fight in World War II?”
“He sure did,” Dan replied, just a touch of awe in his voice. “With Merrill’s Marauders in Burma. He was a hero again in Korea, and was a general during the early days of Vietnam.”
Cecil strolled up, his face grim. “I have ordered our people in the field to offer surrender terms only once. After that, if our teams are met with armed force, the coup members are to be destroyed. I want this put down hard!”
“That’s all we can do, Cec,” Mark Terry said, joining the group. There was a bloody bandage tied around his head and he had taken a nick on his left arm. He was grim-faced. “About twenty percent of my people were involved in the takeover attempt. I’m having those who survived shot at this moment. I warned them after that fiasco with Hartline and the IPF forces that any breech of orders would result in a firing squad.”*
The group was silent for a moment, listening to the punishing shots roll from just north of the camp. Mark’s eyes were tortured as he listened, knowing those were his people he had ordered put against the wall.
“How is Peggy?” Dan asked gently.
Mark sighed. With a visible effort he pulled his attention away from the shots of the firing squads. “She’s OK. Her wounds were not serious. Doctor Chase and his medical people just returned to camp. That old man is randy, folks. He was leading a team of guerrillas in the woods. His people killed two teams of Willette’s people.” Mark kicked at a pebble with the toe of a jump boot. His eyes were downcast, as if something heavy was weighing on his mind.
“Something on your mind, old man?” Dan asked.
Mark blurted, “Sally McGowen was among those killed at the football field.”
“Oh … balls!” Dan said.
“How about the children?” Tina asked.
Mark shook his head. “Dead. Sally tried to protect them with her body, shielding them. It was a brave but futile gesture. The .50-caliber slugs went right through her. The kids bought it.”
“That’s not going to set well with Ike,” Dan said. “He and Sally have been experiencing some troubles in their relationship, but he adored those children.”
Juan Solis and his brother, Alvaro, walked up. Both were bloodstained and dusty. “Willette and what was left of his bunch are gone. Disappeared into the timber, witnesses say. And it was Willette and some of his men who killed those people at the football field. Shot them in cold blood. Laughing as they murdered them. Witnesses who survived say Willette treated the entire matter as one big joke. Some of the Rebels guarding them, when they saw what was happening, dropped their weapons and ran to aid the wounded. Abe Lancer and his men were attacking the stadium, got there just in time to see the guards running. They thought the guards were a part of the murderers and opened fire on them. It was a night of confusion all the way around.”
“That couldn’t be helped,” Cecil said. “I’ll speak to Abe and his people. We’re at the point where a traitor is a traitor is a traitor-to paraphrase Gertrude Stein.”
“What outfit was she in?” a young Rebel sergeant asked the ex-college professor turned guerrilla fighter.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“They’re pulling out of the timber,” Ike said, after listening for a moment to his walkie-talkie. “But before we make any hasty moves, let’s lay low for a few hours. It could be a trap.”
“You mean, they may know we have communications, now?”
“Yeah. But from what we just heard, the coup attempt at the Base Camp failed. But we took a lot of casualties puttin” it down. Lots of folks got killed.”
“Your wife?”
“I don’t know,” Ike replied. “I’m worried about the kids.” He looked at Nina. “Don’t read that as hard as it sounded. Kids and olds folks always take it on the chin in any war. I’ve seen too much of it not to know that’s the way it goes down.”
“I don’t wanna grow old,” Nina said flatly. “I feel sorry for old people. I seen it time after time, old people just pushed aside. Bad people abusin’ them. It ain’t right.”
“That’s the way it was when the government of the United States was operatin’ at full tilt, too, Nina. Don’t get me started on that subject. I always did feel there should have been special laws for the punks and crud who attack and abuse old people.”
“What law would that have been, Ike?”
“Put the punk sons of bitches against a wall and shoot them.”
Together they lay in a thicket and listened to their walkie-talkies. Within moments of the initial pull-back order, the radios fell silent as the searchers pulled out of range. Ike and Nina waited for an hour. The surrounding timber was silent except for the singing of the birds and the barking of squirrels as they went about their yearly tasks of gathering nuts for the fast-approaching winter months.
“Pretty and peaceful,” Nina said. “I wish the whole world was peaceful.”
“Maybe it will be someday,” Ike replied.
“Don’t put no money on it,” her reply was pessimistic.
The pair ate a cold lunch, washing it down with fresh water from a rushing mountain stream. At Ike’s orders, they gathered up their weapons and other gear and moved out, heading south.
This time they moved slowly and as silently as possible, stopping every hundred or so yards to check for sound or movement in the deep timber.
But only the natural sounds of forest inhabitants greeted them. They neither saw nor heard any of the men who had been chasing them.
Nina touched Ike’s arm. “I think they’re really gone.”
“Yeah, I agree, little one.” He looked at an old road map and then glanced around him, getting his bearings from deep in the timber. He pointed to a spot on the map. “We’ll head out for this little town. This state road right here shouldn’t be too far off.
We’ll find it, and take it into town. If we have any luck at all, we’ll find some wheels and barrel-ass back to Base Camp. I wanna find out what’s happened to Ben.”
“You’re really worried about Mr. Raines, aren’t you, Ike?”
“Worried maybe ain’t the right word. Ben is tough as wang-leather. It’s just … well, we’ve been together for a long time.”
“Kinda like the way brothers is supposed to feel?” Nina questioned.
“Yeah,” Ike said with a smile. “Brothers.”
“OK. So lead on, Mr. Shark.”
Ike wore a pained expression. “I keep tellin’ you, damnit. It’s SEAL, not shark. SEAL!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“Here they come,” Ben’s headset whispered the lookout’s words. “They’re gonna try to make the creek and that little stand of timber this side of it. They reach that timber, we’re in trouble.”
“Settle down,” Ben said. “They won’t make it. Mortar crews! Commence firing. Snipers, in position, ready when and if they get into range. Hold your fire, all others. They’re too far off. We don’t want to waste ammo.”
Ben was thoughtful for a moment as the first rockets left the tubes. He turned around and looked the area of the Rebels over. “Flanks and rear!” he yelled. “Stand ready. I think this is a diversion tactic. Keep your eyes glued to your perimeters.”
Captain Rayle came to Ben’s side. “Too few of them for a major assault, sir. I’ve ordered snipers to the flanks and rear.”
“Concentrate your people to the east and west, Captain. Leave a few at the rear. It’s much too wet and