The aide left. Happy to do so.Hoffman leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. So, he thought. We are once 146.

more fighting the world, as. .h.i.tler-G.o.d rest his glorious soul-did so many years ago. They are fools to fight us. Fools! This plan that I am now carrying out was fully planned years before I was born. Victory was a.s.sured me by the very blood that runs through my veins. I cannot fail.

That is not only unthinkable, it is impossible.

He thought for a long time, wrote out a message, then rose and walked to his communications building. "Order all commanders to halt their advance immediately. We must prepare for a major a.s.sault against us." He handed the message to the radioman. "This will explain everything. Send this in code to all commanders. Immediately."

"Yes, sir."

Corrie sat for a moment, trying to make some sense out of the communiquejust radioed to her from communications central. It just didn't make any sense. Finally, she handed her headset to another Rebel and walked into Ben's office, a room just off what had once been a den in the old home.

"Makes no sense, General," she said.

Ben rubbed eyes weary from hours of staring at maps. "What doesn't, Corrie?"

"We just decoded this. Hoffman has ordered an immediate halt to all advances. He has instructed his troops to prepare for a major counteroffensive by the Rebels."

Ben looked at her for a few seconds, then shook his head in confusion and disbelief. "Would you repeat that, Corrie."

" 'Rebels being re-enforced by five divisions of troops 147.

unfriendly to our goals. Preparing to launch major counteroffensive against us on all fronts. Stand or die. Heil Hitler.' It's from the headquarters of Field Marshal Jesus Hoffman."

"Do they know something we don't, Corrie?"

She shrugged her shoulders as the rest of Ben's team gathered around.

"Do you suppose Ike or some of the other commanders sent out false information?"

"Not without first clearing it with me. I do not understand this at all."

"All our batt comms are requesting orders," Corrie said. "What do I tell them?"

Ben leaned back in his chair and smiled. "Tell them to mount up. We attack!"

148Chapter Thirteen The Rebels punched at Hoffman's lines from all directions, using mortars, rockets, and light arms. Every Rebel who could carry a rifle took part. It was. .h.i.t hard and run like h.e.l.l. They didn't really inflict a lot of physical damage, since the majority of Rebels had moved north of I-20, but the psychological effects on the Black-shirts was significant.

"We have repulsed the first wave!" Generals Schleyer, Maihofer, and Schmidt proudly radioed to Hoffman. "Our casualties are very light."

But General von Hanstein wasn't buying any of it. He didn't believe Ben had five divisions coming to his aid. He didn't believe there were five solid divisions of troops anywhere in the world except for the troops they were already fighting.

He sent a patrol north of his position to check it out. They reported seeing only very small bands of Rebels. They guessed they were Rebels-they couldn't be sure since those they spotted were in no regular uniform. None of those they saw showed any inclination to stand and fight. They requested permission to pursue and engage.

149.

"Negative," General von Hanstein quickly nixed that. "Return to base."

He got Field Marshall Hoffman's HQ. "This is a ruse, sir," he informed Hoffman. "I don't know what Raines is doing, but he does not have five divisions of additional troops. It's some sort of trick."

"Nonsense!" Hoffman snapped. "I shouldn't have to remind you that our intelligence is the finest in the world. They have been on top of this situation since the first transmission. You are wrong, General von Hanstein."

Von Hanstein held his temper and his tongue. He had always been of the opinion that Field Marshal Hoffman's intelligence people would have difficulty finding their own a.s.ses with both hands and a seeing eye dog.

But he knew better than to argue with Hoffman.

"Yes, sir," von Hanstein said. "As you say, sir." Von Hanstein walked outside and stood for a moment. "Ben Raines is up to something," he muttered. "I know you're up to something, Ben Raines. But what?"

Ben didn't know himself until he stood facing a map. Then he started smiling.

"We're in trouble," Cooper whispered to Jersey. "The general's grinning."

Ben turned around. He smiled at his team. "I have a plan," he said, then started laughing.

"GSG 9 people are in camp," Corrie said. "And Ike's on the horn and he's hot."

"Go, Shark," Ben keyed the mic.

"G.o.dd.a.m.nit, Eagle!" Ike roared. "You're supposed to be north of I-20 by now."

"GSG 9 people rolling up, sir," Jersey called, looking out the window."They look pretty d.a.m.n tough to me."

150.

"They are," Ben said. "Shark, we're been delayed some. We'll be packed and on the road within the hour. That's a promise." Ben was careful not to tell him in what direction they'd be heading, however.

"That's good, Eagle," Ike said. "General von Hanstein is not fifteen miles from your location."

Ben grinned. "That is a fact, Ike. Yes, indeed. That is a fact. Eagle out." He stepped outside and shook hands with a smiling Colonel Lenz of the German GSG 9.

The two men spoke for a moment and Colonel Lenz laughed. "Everyone said you had more than your share of courage, General Raines," he said. "This proves them correct. It's a fine plan. Let's do it."

"You've got some memorizing to do, Colonel," Ben said. "We'd best get to it."

A half hour later, Ben gathered his team around him and laid it all out.

There was just about one minute of silence after Ben had told them what they were going to do. Jersey finally found her voice and summed up the feelings of everyone present. "Holy s.h.i.t!"

Von Hanstein finally but reluctantly followed orders and prepared for an offensive from the Rebels, spreading his people out along a line east to west. The easternmost units were side by side with men of the Fifth Division, the westernmost units talking with personnel from Hoffman's First Division. Ben and his Rebels, and Colonel Lenz and his GSG 9 men, all of them now dressed in seized Blackshirt uniforms, with Lenz spearheading, headed south and just drove right up to the first checkpoint on Highway 67 and stopped.

"You there!" Colonel Lenz barked at a guard. "We're 151.

from General Schleyer's Eighth. We're trying to get to Field Marshal Hoffman's HQ, with a personal message from General Schleyer and this idiot driver of mine took the wrong road. Can you help us?"

"Certainly, sir," the guard said. "Just stay on this road for about twenty more miles. You'll come to Highway 87. Turn west and you'll run right into the field marshal's HQ. Have you seen any Rebels, sir?"

"We've seen nothing. I think it's a ruse and so does General Schleyer.

But ..." He smiled and shrugged his shoulders. "We are only soldiers, hey. What can we do?"

"Yes, sir," the sentry said with a grin. "I imagine General von Hanstein would be glad to talk to you. He shares your views about this so-called a.s.sault. His CP is only a mile past the intersection. He's pretty thin down there. All our troops have been deployed along this line."

"Certainly, we shall speak with him," Lenz said. "Do call the General and advise him we are on the way."The sentry waved them on through. "Heil Hitler!" he stiff-armed.

Lenz forced a smile, returned the stiff-armed salute, and mouthed the hated words. Then he spat out the window. "Up yours, a.s.shole," he muttered, when they were past the checkpoint. He grinned at his driver.

"He'd probably s.h.i.t on himself if he knew he'd been standing this close to a Jew, Zuckerman."

Zuckerman then proceeded to heap some highly uncomplimentary remarks on the heads of the Blackshirts and Lenz laughed aloud. Down the road, the convoy pulled over and he ran back to Ben's vehicle, an armored car seized from one of many Rebel ambushes 152.

of Blackshirts. "That's the hard part," he told Ben. "Von Hanstein will have fresh coffee and cake waiting for us."

"I can't believe that sentry didn't smell a rat," Ben said. "We're not exactly a small force."

"I must admit, I was a bit apprehensive. You ready?"

"Let's do it."

Lenz chuckled. "If we pull this off, it'll send this Hoffman b.a.s.t.a.r.d spinning right through the ceiling."

Von Hanstein stood for a moment after receiving the message from the checkpoint. Something bothered him about this. Why did this officer take the northern route instead of the much safer southern route? "Oh, well,"

he finally muttered. "Make fresh coffee, Carlos," he told a Blackshirt.

"Company is on the way from Schleyer's Eighth."

The sergeant paused and narrowed his eyes. "From a hundred and twenty five miles east of us, sir?" he questioned. "At this time of high alert?"

"Odd, isn't it, Carlos?" von Hanstein said softly. "Ah! I have it. The party must have set out long before the alert. That's it."

"Yes, sir. I'm sure that's it." But the sergeant was far from convinced as he set about making fresh coffee and laying out cookies and small pastries. Something about this just didn't feel right to him. His duties done, he checked his sidearm and made certain his rifle was close at hand.

Carlos looked outside. Not enough men, he thought. The camp is nearly deserted. General Raines is crazy enough to do something this daring ...

Bah! He shook his head and pushed those thoughts from him. The guards at the checkpoint would not have allowed the convoy through if anything had seemed out of the ordinary.

153.

You're letting your imagination run away with you, he silently admonished himself.

"Sergeant Rogillo!" the voice broke into his thoughts.

Carlos looked up. "Sir?" he said to a lieutenant."Daydreaming, Sergeant?" the lieutenant asked, a smile on his lips.

"I ... ah, guess so, Lieutenant," Carlos admitted, red-faced.

"That's not like you. What's the matter?"

"Nothing, sir. Nothing at all."

"Be alert then. We don't want a bad report going back to General Schleyer, now, do we?"

"No, sir." On this last day of his life, Carlos busied himself setting out cups and saucers.

General von Hanstein sat in his office, behind his field desk and drummed his fingertips on the wood. He again read the message. Odd that the officer did not give his name. Perhaps he should give General Schleyer a call? He opened his mouth to call for an aide, then sighed and shut his mouth. What was he thinking of? Schleyer would think him a fool!

He rose and walked into his communications room. "Have there been any further attacks from the Rebels? Anywhere along the front?"

"Just a few skirmishes, sir. Nothing of any significance."

Something is wrong, von Hanstein thought, returning to his office.

Something is very, very wrong.

Sergeant Carlos Rogillo had gone to communications and spoken with the guard at the checkpoint. The guard had been very indignant. Of course, he was certain the men were from the Eighth. He'd recognized Sergeants Zimmerman and Rozas. And the colonel was SS.

154.

SS, Carlos mulled that around. SS? No way. Why would an SS colonel be acting as a messenger boy? Those t.u.r.ds thought themselves to be above such mundane tasks. Especially a colonel. Carlos felt eyes on him and turned, looking at Major Schlosser, looking at him.

"What's the matter with you, Sergeant?" the major asked. "Your behavior is quite odd."

"I ..." The sounds of approaching vehicles cut off his reply.

Major Schlosser waved him silent.

General von Hanstein stepped out of his office, straightening his tunic.

"SS troops, sir," Lieutenant Bachman said. "A lot of SS troops."

"SS?" von Hanstein said. "That explains a few things. Those arrogant b.a.s.t.a.r.ds think they're invincible. That's why they took the northern route. s...o...b..ating. Do you recognize any of them, Hans?"

Hans Bachman peered out the freshly cleaned window of the old farmhouse.

He shook his head. "I ... I'm not sure. I think I know this colonel, sir. I mean, I've seen him around.""Show them in," von Hanstein said, then walked back into his office.

"Bring them to me." He'd be d.a.m.ned if he'd grovel to a colonel, even if he was one of those G.o.dd.a.m.ned SS people.

Boots sounded on the porch.

Sergeant Carlos Rogillo opened the front door for Major Schlosser to greet the visiting troops. The major stepped out, smiling. Carlos stepped to one side and looked around the Major. There were women in this group. That's odd, he thought. The SS did have women in its ranks, but they were usually office personnel. The 155.

colonel and his senior officers were probably making a lark of this trip, carrying their personal c.u.n.ts along with them. That's usually what those perverted SS females were used for. All of them were twisted in some deviant manner. Carlos looked for a familiar face. He knew Sergeant Zimmerman. He couldn't find him in the milling crowd. Odd, the SS troops seemed to be taking up a loose defensive position. Paranoid bunch of b.a.s.t.a.r.ds.

Carlos turned around and walked to his desk, automatically straightening his uniform. Like most regular troops, he was slightly afraid of the SS.

They just were not normal people.

"Good afternoon, Colonel," Major Schlosser said. "Please come in. You must be tired. After you've freshened up, we have coffee and cake."