He expelled his breath and rubbed a hand across his face, as if trying to erase the worry he felt. “I think we’re back to plan one, boys. We just don’t have the people to stand up and slug it out with the Russians.”
Colonel Gray stepped into the room. “Sorry I am late, gentlemen,” the Englishman said. “But I wanted to debrief the last group of LETTERRP’S that came in. General, they report the Russian is gearing up to throw it all at us the next go-round. And the rumors they heard, plus some actual radio transmissions our intelligence people decoded, clearly state the massive push coming at us very soon.”
Ben nodded. The news did not surprise him. It was what he would do if he stood in the Russian’s boots.
Colonel Gray poured himself a cup of coffee, tasted it, grimaced and said, “My word.”
The men laughed and Cecil said, “Ben, you said back to plan one. What did you mean?”
“I believe we’re too small a force to stand up and do anymore nose-to-nose slugging it out with the IPF. Add the fact that we’ve taken substantial losses in troops-it wouldn’t take Striganov long to overrun and destroy us. That’s my belief. So … I think we’ve got to go to a guerrilla-type operation: hit and run, and I mean hit hard. Cut and slash and demoralize. If it can be mined, mine it; if it can be blown, blow it up.
We’ve got snipers who can knock the eye out of a squirrel at three hundred meters-use them as long-distance shooters. Give me your thoughts on those ideas.”
“I don’t see that we have a choice,” Ike said.
The rest of the men agreed.
Ben spoke to Cecil. “Order the heavy howitzers into hiding with the main battle tanks. Send the PU!‘S into hiding. We can’t risk losing any of them and with this type of operation, we’ll have to depend on speed to survive. I want them to come to us this time. This is perfect country for ambushes and throat-cuttings: rolling hills and lots of brush.
“Gentlemen, start breaking your commands into small, highly movable teams. I want destruction and terror and confusion. Ike, get word back to Tri-States that I want all the Claymores, C-4, mines and dynamite we have in storage sent up here ASAP. Go over the use of high explosives with all your people. Hec, get your people to cleaning up the airport here at Poplar Bluff-we’ll use that strip.
“Colonel Gray, send fresh teams of scouts and LETTERRP’S back north with all the equipment they can carry. Tell them to start cutting throats. Have them determine which route the IPF will be taking and mine those bridges. We’ve got some good electronics people with us; they can rig those explosives so our LETTERRP’S can lay back two, three miles and blow the bridges, with maximum killing effects and less danger to themselves.
“I want fresh teams on the way to replace weary teams at all times. I don’t have to tell you men what a strain guerrilla warfare is; you all know a man tires
mentally and physically very quickly. And I don’t want any heroics.” He looked each man square in the eyes. “I mean that. For a number of reasons. Just being a part of any guerrilla action is heroic enough. And you all know that for an iron-clad fact.
“We’ve got the edge over the IPF in this type of action, even though we’re heavily outnumbered. Most of our people have been fighting, in one way or another, for years. This is our type of war. But tell your people if they think they can’t cut it-no pun intended,” Ben said with a smile, and the men all laughed in rough soldier humor, “to step forward now. Don’t endanger their buddies’ lives.
“We will neutralize our zones of operation. If the people are IPF supporters-kill them. We went over this before, but I feel it best to hash it out again. The people will either be one hundred percent for what we are attempting to do, or one hundred percent against us. There will be no middle ground. We don’t have the time or the personnel for a political debate. Anyone could turn our teams in. If you’re Red, you’re dead. That’s the way it has to be, and that’s the way it is going to be from this moment on. Do I make myself clear?”
“Perfectly, General,” Colonel Gray said. He smiled. “Put quite forcefully, I should say.”
Ben looked around the table. There were no questions from any man.
“All right, boys,” Ben said. “I want the first teams equipped and moving north by late this afternoon. That’s it, people, let’s move it and shake it.”
Cecil held up a hand, signaling that the meeting was not yet over. “Ben, I have to ask the question that is on all our minds.”
Ben looked at him.
“Your part in all this guerrilla action will be to oversee the project and direct from this base-is that correct?”
“Not necessarily.” Ben braced himself, for he knew what was coming. And he was going to have no part of it.
“Whoa, now, partner.” Ike swung his eyes to Ben. “Like it or not, someone has to run things from this side of the battle line. You know that and you know who that person is.”
Colonel Gray sat without entering the conversation. He knew very well no one would be able to keep General Raines out of the field. The man had entirely too much old war-horse in him for that. Middle-aged or not.
Juan looked horrified. “General Raines, you can’t be serious. I mean, you can’t be thinking of leading a team into the field.”
Even Mark was upset, his face registering that discomposure. “General, your place is here. That you would even consider-was
Ben silenced them with a look and wave of his hand. “My place, gentlemen, shall be wherever I’m needed and can do the most good. If I feel the need to go into the field, I shall do just that.” He stood up. “And that settles the matter. Do we have any further questions concerning this operation?”
There were questions by the score on each man’s tongue, but they checked any vocal arguments. They all knew better than to cross Ben when his mind was made up.
“Tina is well-trained in this business of guerrilla warfare,” Colonel Gray asked the question without it being put as such. “I know, I helped train her.”
“Then by all means, use her,” Ben said, no expression on his face. “No one among us is indispensable.”
Only one man, the thought jumped into the brain of the men who sat looking up at Ben Raines.
But no one spoke the name aloud.
“Move out, gentlemen,” Ben said softly. “And good luck to you all.”
CHAPTER FIVE
I have passed the Rubicon; swim or sink, live or die, survive or perish with my country-that is my unalterable determination.
-John Adams
“It ain’t our fight,” the burly man told the young captain from Raines’s Rebels.
“Mister-was the captain stood his ground, the ground in this case being just below the Great Smoky Mountains National Park in north Georgia-“if you think it isn’t your fight, if you think the IPF won’t be in here after you and your family, you’d better think again.”
The man spat tobacco juice on the ground. “When or if this Russian and his troops get here, we’ll fight. But not before.”
“By then it may well be too late,” he was told.
“Mayhaps you be right in that,” the man replied in the peculiar mountain dialect that many families still used after centuries. “But me and mine been gettin’ by
in these mountains for more years than there was a nation, sonny boy. The Russians come in here and they’ll find us to be not so hospitable as we is to you and your soldiers … sonny boy.”
The young captain met the mountain man’s stony gaze with a look just as unflinching and unyielding. “Mister, you call me sonny boy one more time, and you’re going to be eating on the butt of this AK-47. And after I butt-stroke you, I am going to stomp your fucking guts clear out.”