Ike nodded. “Well have to meet them head-on.” There was a grimness to his voice. “And they’ll have us outgunned and out-manned.”
“But we can’t stay boxed in here,” Cecil said. Like Ike, the black man was spoiling for a good fight. An ex-Green Beret, he had earned his CIB in Vietnam. “They’d sit off our borders and lob heavy artillery in on us, and eventually kill us all.”
“Give me your votes,” Ben said, looking at Colonel Gray, the only person present who had yet to speak.
“Take the fight to them, General,” the Englishman said. “If we are going to die, then let us prepare to die for liberty.”
Ben smiled. He knew without asking that would be the reply of all his people. He looked at Ike.
“I’m with him,” Ike said, jerking his thumb toward
Dan. “I just can’t say it as pretty.”
“That line came, in part,” Dan said, “from a Rom-berg opera. When the street rabble were preparing to do battle for King Louis against the crown of Burgundy. They were ultimately successful in their efforts.”
“Do tell,” Ike said.
“Cretin,” Dan said with a smile.
“Smart-ass,” Ike responded.
Laughing, Ben glanced at Cecil.
“Take the fight to them, Ben. Let’s kick their asses all the way back to Iceland.”
“All right, that’s it. Pull back your people from Iowa. Those that were meeting with Lois Peters. I hate to leave what resistance there is up there defenseless, but I can’t risk losing anybody at this stage of the game,
“Gear up. I want the people mobilized and moving within forty-eight hours. Contact Juan and Al and have them get their troops moving-en masse. Right now. Juan will take his people in from the west, Al from the east; we’ll go straight up and in.
“Let’s do it people.”
CHAPTER TEN
“No!” Ben said. “And that is final, Gale. You are not going north with the column.”
Out came the chin. “I’d by God like to know why the hell not?”
“Because this is war, Gale. War. Full-scale warfare. You have no idea what war is like. It’s dirty, bloody, awful, dangerous. Can you get that through your head?”
She glared at him. Rose to her full height. All five feet.
“Can you, Gale?”
He towered over her; she glowered up at him.
“When do we pull out, Ben?” “Goddamn!”
“I better get us packed.” “Jesus Christ!”
“Do you want me to pack any long underwear for you?”
Ben stalked from the house, muttering. He was still muttering as he walked up the street. Tina pulled in next to the curb, motioning him into the Jeep.
Ben kissed his adopted daughter and smiled at her. He
had not seen her in several months and had missed her. “When’d you get in?”
“Late last night. I stayed with friends.”
Father and daughter looked at each other. Tina touched her father’s face with her finger tips.
“I’ve missed you, kiddo,” Ben said.
“How much?” She initiated the game they had played when she was young.
“Oodles and gobs.”
“Good. Well… I thought it was best if I stayed away for a time. Dad, I have something to tell you.”
Ben knew what it was. And he thought Tina probably knew he did. Very little escaped Ben’s attention in Tri-States.
“Oh?”
“I met this real nice fellow.”
“He better be a nice fellow,” Ben said jokingly. He knew the young man was. He knew all about the young man.
“His name is Robert Graham. Bob. We’re farming down in Louisiana.” “We’re farming?”
“Yes. I… Dad, I live with him.”
Ben had never objected to that. With the world having taken such a beating, marriage was getting rare. Sometimes a few words were spoken, but oftentimes not, they were spoken by a friend of the couple, and not a minister.
Varying religions were now almost non-existent, especially in Tri-States. Baptist, Christian, Methodist, Catholic, Lutheran, Jew, all the others, now were, at least in Tri-States, combined. No longer was there the arrogance of one church maintaining that if one did not belong to
that particular church, one was doomed to suffer the fires of the pits of hell.
It had taken a worldwide nuclear and germ holocaust to bring the factions together.
Ben smiled. “Thinking about getting married, maybe?”
“Could be. Just as soon as this mission is concluded.”
Ben stiffened beside her. He had lost his wife, Salina, and their son, Jack, back in the battle for the old Tri-States. He did not want to lose Tina. For a few seconds, he was flung back in time.
Just seconds after Salina had kissed him and told him goodbye, she had been bayoneted in the stomach by a paratrooper. Ben had killed the young soldier and then knelt down beside Salina’s side. She had smiled up at him, then died.
Moments later, Jack had been killed by a machine gun burst. Tina had lobbed a hand grenade into the machine gun emplacement, killing the gunners.
“What are you thinking, Dad?” Tina brought him
back to the moment. “Salina. Your brother, Jack.” “That’s what I thought. Did you love her, Dad?” “No. No, I didn’t. But I cared a great deal for her and
was always faithful to her.” “Have you ever truly been in love, Dad?” “I don’t believe I have, honey. Maybe someday.” He
did not feel any guilt about having said that, for Gale
knew that thought there was a closeness between them,
physical as well as emotional, Ben did not love her.
She touched his hand, this man she loved as her own father.
“Anyway,” Ben said, “who said you were going on the mission?”
She squeezed his hand. “I’m a Rebel, Dad. You taught me to be a soldier. You taught me to love liberty and freedom, to know the difference between right and wrong without having courts to tell you the difference. Everything I value, I learned from you. This is as much my fight as it is yours. Now you want to make something out of that?”
Ben laughed at her stubbornness. “Don’t get uppity with the old man, kid,” he said jokingly.
“The way you were stalking about a few minutes ago, you looked like you had your back up about something. Want to talk about it?”
Ben shrugged. “I’ll never understand women.”
“What a sexist remark.”
Ben’s smile was wry. “You and Gale will get along fine, I’m thinking. And that spelling is G-A-L-E.”
Tina laughed aloud. “Does she live up to it?”
“Damn well better believe it.”
“I’d very much like to meet her.”
“Well, so what are you waiting for? Welcome home, honey.”
“Well split up into three columns,” Ben told his senior officers. “Ike, your brigade will take Highway 79 out of here to Memphis, then get on Interstate 55 and head north. Angle slightly west and stop at Warrenton. We’ll be in radio contact at all times-everything on scramble.
“Colonel Ramos, you’ll move up Highway 65 all the way to Interstate 70. Wait there for me. I’m going to connect with Highway 63 in North Arkansas and stay with it all the way to Columbia. Well bivouac and wait until Al and Juan get their people in position, then well hit the IPF with everything we’ve got. I don’t like to think about slugging it out nose to nose, but we don’t have a choice this time around, boys. All right, we move out at dawn.”
The scene resembled a miniature replay of the staging areas of D-day, back in 1944. Hundreds of vehicles of all types: Jeeps, trucks, APC’S, cargo carriers. Just over three thousand men and women, a thousand to a brigade, milling about, creating what would look to the untrained eyes to be mass total confusion. It was anything but. The men and women of Ben Raines’s Rebels had been trained well; each person knew his job and would give it one hundred percent. But any staging area sounds chaotic.