"I really wish you would reconsider, Father. I would like to accompany you across the river."

"No, boy, and that is final. If something gets fouled up and your sister and I don't return, you and Cecil have to piece together the remains and get this army moving. Now get off my a.s.s about it." He looked at his son and softened his statement with a grin.

"But you are going to Europe. Now does that make you feel any better?"

"Somewhat," the young man replied, smiling. "I can take some consolation that I will be with Ike in the boats later on."

"There you go."

Thirty miles away the graying sky was suddenly lit up as the thunderous barrage began. The very first sh.e.l.l of HE from the eight-inch guns struck true, landing smack in the middle of a supply depot.

Ammo, gasoline, mortar rounds, and rockets lit up the sky across the river.

The Rebels on the airstrip cheered.

"Tell the pilots to check their engines," Ben told Corrie.

The salvo knocked Lan Villar out of his bunk and tumbling to the floor, grabbing for his boots and clothing. The door to his quarters burst open.

"They've got us zeroed in, Lan!" his XO shouted to be heard over the whine and roar of incoming.

A round landed very close and blew out what windows remained on the ground floor.

Lan pulled on his boots and looked out to the north, then ran across the room, the gla.s.s crunching under his feet and looked to the south. Huge fires lit up the early morning skies.

Lan cursed for a moment. "That's it, Karl.

We've had it. Without those supplies we're screwed. Why in the h.e.l.l wasn't I informed that Raines had guns capable of reaching this distance?"

"We didn't know, Lan. We thought the heaviest he had were one-o-five's."

"The son of a b.i.t.c.h is dropping rounds in from twenty miles away. How is the evac route to the north?"

"No good. The explosion at the depot took out part of the Interstate."

"South?" Lan knew the answer to that even before he turned and looked south. A wall of flames greeted him. Defeat clutched at him in a cold sweaty grasp and the copper taste was unpalatable on his tongue. "It seems we have only one other option, Karl. And might I add that we had better exercise it."

"After you, sir."

"It worked!" Dan said, after receiving a curt and coded radio message. "They're heading this way." He lifted his walkie-talkie, set on a scrambled high band frequency. "Use your injection kits now. Now!"

He laid the walkie-talkie aside, opened his kit, and took out the syringe, the small needle capped. He removed the cap and jammed the needle into his leg, emptying the vial. He experienced a moment of nausea, fought it back, and then the sensation left him.

He lifted the walkie-talkie and spoke into the cup. "Lay out cannisters but do not activate or load comrepeat: do not- activate or load. Activate and load only on my orders."

The Rebels were spread out from one city limits sign to the other, running west to east in the deserted old town. Others were on rooftops, flat on their bellies, waiting.

"The town up ahead." Lan pointed to his radio operator. "That seems to be out of range of the guns. Tell the others to center around me there."

The message was sent down the line of fast-moving vehicles, the cars and trucks taking up both lanes of the highway in their haste to escape the deadly fire from the Rebels.

The dead calm air began moving as a very slight breeze from out of the west picked up.

"Activate and load," Dan gave the orders.

Lan Villar told his driver to pull off on the shoul- der and waved down the command vehicles of Khamsin and Parr. He got out and walked back to the other commanders. "Have your people use this next town as a staging area. We're out of range of the guns."

"The barrage has almost stopped," Khamsin said, pointing out the obvious.

"I noticed," Villar said coldly. "And why not? Ben Raines has us running like scared rabbits."

He looked at Kenny Parr. "Have your radio operator order one battalion from each command to lay back just behind our position to act as rear guard, Kenny."

Kenny gave the orders that saved a few lives.

"I hate Ben Raines with all the pa.s.sion in my heart," the Hot Wind verbally farted.

The town limits, which extended for nearly six miles, began filling up with troops from the terrorist and outlaw armies.

At St. Clair, the planes filled with Ben's team began lifting off the runway.

With a smile on his lips, Dan Gray lifted the walkie-talkie and said, "All teams fire!

Fire!"

Rockets exploded vehicles on the clogged roads leading into and out of the town, completely blocking many of the littered streets. The burning vehicles caught other cars and trucks on fire and the exploding gas tanks, ammunition, mortar rounds and grenades hooked onto battle harnesses only added to the confusion.

The deadly gas cannisters were fired from rocket launchers and exploded out of mortar tubes. Since the gas was invisible, many of the members of the terrorist armies trapped in the burning streets did not know what was taking place until their lungs and throats began burning and waves of nausea struck them, driving them to their knees with unseen hammer blows.

Even from their positions several thousand yards from the town, Lan Villar, Kenny Parr, and Khamsin could hear the screaming from several thousand tongues. But it was not until they saw dozens of men stagger out of the smoke, clutching their chests and their throats that Villar put it together.

"Gas!" he screamed. "The b.a.s.t.a.r.d's using poisonous gas."

Many miles to the south, the planes carrying Ben and his contingent were just making their northern turn.

The young Kenny Parr was the first to react sensibly.

He quickly consulted an old map and said, "Everybody backtrack to one fifty-nine and cut north," he said, his voice firm. "We can't stop for anything. Raines will surely have another larger force coming in as soon as the gas clears. Let's go!"

The three terrorists and what was left of their armies ran for vehicles, running in a near-blind panic as the screaming began to fade from the death town. "Take the lead, Kenny," Villar shouted. "We'll follow."

Atop a roof, Dan watched the frightened exodus through binoculars, a grim smile of satisfaction on his face as death clogged the streets below him.

He turned to his radio operator. "Let them go. They'll be out of range for us in less than a minute anyway."

As the frightened remnants of the terrorist army escaped, many of those still on foot were run over and crushed under the tires of the vehicles used in the rush of retreat. In many cases their dying took much longer than their comrades trapped in the town.

A few managed to pull their crushed bodies off the roadway and into the ditches, where they died amid the litter and twinkle of years'-old soft drink and beer cans. The cans would still be twinkling years after their bones had turned to dust.

As the planes flew over Belleville, they turned toward the east, the pilots reporting the hurried retreat of the terrorists to Ben.

"Let them go," Ben radioed to the c.o.c.kpit.

"It's twenty miles from the river to their present location. No way Ike could possibly catch them.

Transportation on this side of the river is uncertain, at best. We'll catch up with them another day." He changed frequencies and said, "Eagle One to Scout Leader."

"Go Eagle One," Dan's calm voice sprang into Ben's headset.

"Situation report."

"Wall-to-wall bodies, Eagle. There is no sign of life on the streets. The team at the airstrip where you will land says to stay clear for another five minutes."

"That's ten-fifty, Dan. We've already injected our selves. We're safe. We'll be landing in three minutes. Send trucks on the way."

"That's ten-four, Eagle." He changed frequencies and ordered, "Drivers commandeer enemy trucks and meet the Eagle at the strip. Go!"

Rebels literally climbed over the bodies of dead terrorists and outlaws to get to the enemy vehicles.

They cranked up commany of the engines were still running-and headed for the old Air Force base south of town.

A quiet fell over the town as the Rebels left their positions to stand and look in awe at the sight before their eyes. More than six thousand men lay in the streets and on the sidewalks; some hung out of the windows of cars and trucks and Jeeps. Their faces were forever frozen in that last agonizing moment of death as the deadly gas took their lives.

Dan walked down the steps from the rooftop to the street below. He stood for a moment, looking at the stiffening carnage. "You may begin stripping the bodies of weapons and ammo," he ordered.

"Take all radio equipment and anything else you see that we might be able to use. Start moving the usable vehicles clear of town. After General Raines makes his visual, we'll burn the town to eliminate any health hazard."

Ben pulled in moments later. The Rebels had all seen death many times, but none of them comincluding Ben comhad ever seen death like this; not on this wholesale level.

The faces of the dead men were turning black; the death grimaces an awful sight to witness. Hands had turned into claws as the respiratory systems shut down and fingers tore into the flesh of throat in a futile attempt to suck in air. Nervous systems had refused to function, leaving limbs twisted in near-impossible positions. Some lay on their backs, arms, and hands stiffly outstretched heavenward, as if seeking some G.o.dly relief to help them cope with this awful moment of death.

If G.o.d heard the silent pleas, He did nothing that Ben could see to aid the terrorists and outlaws.

"Some of the enemy trucks have sc.r.a.per blades on them. "Doze the bodies onto the main street,"

Ben ordered. "Douse them with gasoline and burn them. When that's done, have artillery lay back and destroy the town with napalm and Willie Peter."

"Right, sir."

"How long do you antic.i.p.ate recovering the captured supplies?"

"We should be finished by noon, sir."

Ben nodded. "You've dispatched trucks to pick up Ike and his people?"

"Yes, sir."

Again, Ben nodded. "West has some of his people rigging barges to use as ferries across the river. Start the convoys moving westward as quickly as possible."

"Right, sir."

"Corrie, radio Cecil and have him start his demolition teams planting explosives around the city and other teams clearing a way for us through the city.

I want the first units moving toward our battle lines in Central Missouri by dawn tomorrow." He turned to his daughter. "Tina, move out ahead of them and set up my CP in Jefferson City ... or what's left of it."

"Right, Dad."

"Double your usual team size and move with Dusters, mortar carriers, and main battle tanks.

Vo-leta will have people between the river and our lines.

Destroy them. No prisoners. Move out now, Tina."

Ben had not expected Thermopolis and his people to accompany Ike's people, but they did. Thermopolis stood at the end of the street and stared at the sight.

"My G.o.d!" he whispered. "There is death wherever one looks."

Rosebud took it much more stoically and pragmatically. "They had a choice," she said.

Then she leaned down, plucked a wildflower that was growing out of a crack in the street, and stuck it behind one ear. "They just didn't make the right choice."

Her husband fixed her with a jaundiced look. Every fiber in his being wanted to debate that remark, but he wisely decided against it. He couldn't remember ever winning an argument with her anyway.

Twisting curls of black smoke arched into the sky moments after the bodies of the dead were set blazing. The dead had been bulldozed onto the main street, doused with gasoline, and torched. As soon as the flames began to wane, Ben ordered the artillery barrage to begin and the afternoon was filled with long-range booming, the napalm and WP sh.e.l.ls setting the town blazing.

Rebels had taken up positions around the town, digging firebreaks to prevent the flames from spreading, and in some case lighting backfires to arrest the forward motion of the leaping flames.

Ben motioned Dan to his side. "You want the job of pursuing the terrorists, Dan?"

The Englishman smiled coldly. "I would be offended if you gave it to anyone else. Naturally, since you are moving against Voleta, you would like me to take Buddy and his Rat Team with me." It was not a question.

"Yes. Pick your people and equipment."

"I shall be in pursuit by dawn tomorrow." Ben watched the former SAS officer walk away, yelling for Buddy and his Rat Team to form up around him. If there was a man alive who could track down and kill Villar and what was left of his army of terrorists, Dan Gray was that man. Andwiththe addition of Hans Strobel, the German might be able to give some insight as to what Villar could possibly do next.

One thing was for certain at this time: Lan Villar was no longer much of a threat to the Rebel movement.

With rear guard personnel radioing that there was no pursuit from the Rebels, Lan called a halt to the frantic retreat.

They were just north of Litchfield when the battalions regrouped on the sh.o.r.es of a lake and began counting heads.

It was discouraging to all.

Out of an initial force of nearly twelve thousand men, twelve hundred had been killed or wounded in the first bombardment by Raines's Rebels.

Another thousand had been killed or wounded by the surprise a.s.sault early that morning, and more than six thousand had been killed by the gas. Another thousand or so had scattered like paper in the wind when the first gas cannisters popped. Whether they had survived or not was anybody's guess.

Personally, Lan figured at the most, maybe half of them made it. He knew he would probably never see one tenth of those survivors again.