Hoffman stared at his commanders, crowded into the room. He smiled at the group. Three days from now, at dawn, we move out. In force. We launch a full-scale attack against the Rebels. In one week, I plan to have the entire state of Texas under our control."

116.

Chapter Ten."Not d.a.m.n likely," Ben said, after reading the communique just decoded by his people. He laughed softly. "So Herr Hoffman plans to strike fear into our hearts by flexing his muscles, eh? All right. We'll let him flex his muscles. Corrie, has this communiquebeen sent out to all our people?"

"Waiting for your orders to do so," she replied.

"Do it. Then tell them to stand by for further instructions."

Ben walked to a map thumb-tacked to a wall of the old church rectory and studied it. He smiled and looked at Beth, standing by with pad and pen at the ready. "As soon as Hoffman makes his move, have all our peoplefall back. Have our people immediately begin gathering up all the broken weapons we've picked up, all the worn-out clothing and boots. All the patched and useless tarps and ground-sheets and shelter-halves. Gather up all the ripped and torn underwear and socks. Pile up busted canteens and rusty eating utensils and the like and get ready to scatter them along the way. I want this to look like a complete rout on our part. We are fleeing 117.

for our lives, people. We are turning tail and running away from the awesome forces of Hoffman. We are frightened to death of the Blackshirts. Their advance has demoralized us all. Their might has turned us into rabbits. Order everyone to fall back to the thirtieth parallel. Start all the battalions I've held in reserve working their way south. Right now. Tell them to stay at least a hundred miles east or west of Hoffman's northern push." Ben chuckled, but it held an ominous note. "So come on, Hoffman. Show me what a brilliant strategist you are.

Strike fear into my heart, you evil b.a.s.t.a.r.d!"

"Ike reporting, sir," Corrie said. "He says that the Blackshirts are pulling away from their lines and heading east, on the south side of the border. Hold on, sir. Colonels Gray and West calling in. They say the same thing."

"Get hold of our eyes below the border, Corrie. Ask them what Hoffman has left down there for reserve. He's got to have stretched himself pretty d.a.m.n thin."

"I did, sir. He's left behind small garrisons of troops in selected towns. But mostly he's depending on the local bully-boys to keep the people in line."

"We know he has several more divisions down in South America," Ben mused. "But we also know he's short on wheeled transportation. Like us, he has plenty of prop-planes, but d.a.m.n few jets and fewer pilots to fly them." Ben paced as he spoke. "We'd be wasting explosives blowing airports. You can land most of those old transports of ours, and his, on practically any runway a crop-duster could use."

Ben walked to the ever-present coffee pot and poured a mug. He sugared and stirred and sipped. Then he smiled. "Hoffman antic.i.p.ated my move. He felt I would 118.

swing troops around to nip at his sides, so he's pulled his western troops in to protect his flanks. And he's hoping I wouldn't pull my battalions out of the west and give him a hole that I'm wagering he had no intention of using. Well, the n.a.z.i son of a b.i.t.c.h guessed wrong!"

"Order our three battalions in, sir?" Corrie asked.

"You bet." He smiled once more. "Float like a b.u.t.terfly and sting like a bee."

"Sir?" Beth asked.

"A champion prizefighter used to say that ... or something to that effect. It fits us rather well, I think. Because that's exactly whatwe're going to do."

Jersey and Cooper exchanged glances, Cooper whispering, "Now it's gettin' down to the way the General likes to fight."

"Yeah," Jersey returned the whisper. "Kick-a.s.s time!"

There were those in Hoffman's command who questioned his decision to launch a full-scale attack deep into the heart of Texas, but only the most brave questioned it aloud, and then only among the closest of friends.

Brodermann was not one of those who questioned his Field Marshal's order. He looked forward to this ma.s.sive thrust of men and machines of war. Hans had a very personal score to settle with Ben Raines, and the sooner the better was his philosophy on the subject.

He had asked to spearhead, and was given the green light. His people were ready, and he now waited for the word.

"What is the status of those Rebels in California, Arizona, and New Mexico?" Hoffman asked, on the night before the pullout.

119.

"They are still there. Your plan worked, sir. They remained in position, afraid to leave the route unguarded."

Hoffman smiled. It was going to work.

Actually, the three battalion commanders did leave some people behind.

Seventy-five from each battalion. They kept cook fires burning, kicked up dust running around in cars and trucks, played catch with baseb.a.l.l.s and footb.a.l.l.s and so forth, and in general maintained a very high profile.

Since the black-shirted troops left behind to watch the Rebels were fewer in number than those they spied upon, neither side was in very much danger from the other. It was just a variation on the game of hide and seek, so to speak.

Albeit a deadly one if those south of the border ever caught on to what was actually happening north of them.

Brodermann radioed back to Hoffman, excitement in his voice. "It's a rout, Field Marshal. A complete rout. They're leaving equipment behind in their haste to retreat. Our people are stocking up on field rations-cases of them. We've tested them and they have not been tampered with. They're really quite delicious."

The Rebels had been only too happy to throw away the goop that Dr.

Chase's lab boys and girls had dreamed up for them to eat. It was highly nutritious and packed with vitamins and minerals and tasted like s.h.i.t.

"They abandoned clothing and weapons and canteens. Many were so frightened they left their boots.

120.

They left behind cases and cases of field rations. More than enough to sustain my people for a week or more."The only hitch the Rebels' lab people hadn't worked out was that the rations tended to make one constipated. As Brodermann's people were about to discover.

"Maintain your position," Hoffman ordered his spear-header. "I want to see this personally."

"They took the bait," Corrie reported, after all the info was in from communications. "They sound elated."

"I hope they eat all that goopy s.h.i.t," Ben said, aware of Dr. Chase standing close, scowling at him. Ben turned to meet the frowning chief of medicine. "And I'm telling you for the last time, Lamar: have your people come up with something less nutritious and more on the tasty side."

"I've already ordered that, Raines," the crusty old doctor popped right back at him. "The first shipments should be arriving by planes within hours."

"Good. Green eggs and ham was wonderful in book form. It isn't worth a d.a.m.n at four o'clock in the morning."

"You are belaboring the point, Raines. Shut up about it. And where did you get that sombrero you've plopped on your head? You look like Hoot Gibson."

"Who the h.e.l.l is Hoot Gibson?" Jersey whispered to Cooper.

"He's taking a h.e.l.l of a chance," Thermopolis spoke to a few of his staff members at one of their communications and HQ bunkers deep in the Arkansas mountains. "This could backfire on him. But I can see why he's doing it."

121.

Emil Hite, the little ex-conman turned loyal Rebel, was not his usual joking self. He was serious as he studied the big board, denoting the positions of all the Rebels, all around the shattered land that was once called the United States. Someone was constantly changing the board.

"But if Hoffman continues to fall for it," Emil said, "he'll be in one h.e.l.l of a bind, I once the General starts attacking from all sides."

"Big 'ifs,' Emil," Therm said softly. "Real big 'ifs.'"

Ike, Dan Gray, and West were moving east, staying on secondary roads and keeping Scouts ranging far out front at all times.

Leadfoot and Wanda had cleared their sector of Hoffman's Blackshirts and all the collaborators they could find and were now barreling west. They had taken the southernmost route across Louisiana, staying in the bayou country, and had crossed into Texas on what remained of old I-90. The ex-outlaw bikers had picked up dozens of other bikers who wanted to be a part of Raines' Rebels, and it was an awesome sight as the several hundred strong bikers, all heavily armed, came roaring westward on their choppers and custom motorcycles. In the old Sam Houston National Forest, they pulled in and made contact with Ben's HQ.

"Leadfoot on the horn, sir," Corrie said.Ben took the mic. "Go, Leadfoot."

"Got nearly four hundred bikers now, Eagle," Leadfoot radioed. "We're in the southernmost trees named after one of the commanders at the Alamo.

You ten-four that?"

122.

"Sam Houston National Park," Beth said, lowering a map.

"I copy that, Leadfoot. Straight west of you is a MASH unit. You know their frequency. Head there and await orders."

"That's a big ten-four, Eagle. Give 'em h.e.l.l. Wolf Pack out."

"Hoffman and Brodermann just think they've seen unconventional warfare,"

Ben said with a smile. "Wait until they tangle with that bunch of outlaws."

"You have done well, Hans," Hoffman said, beaming with satisfaction at the seemingly endless trail of discarded equipment left behind by the "fleeing Rebels." "I am now certain we shall be in full control of Texas in a week's time. After that, it's just a matter of tracking down the retreating Rebels and disposing of them. Do try to take General Raines alive. Colonel Barlach is so looking forward to interrogating the good General Raines."

"I shall do my best, sir."

"I know you will."

Dr. Chase had moved his MASH units about a hundred miles north, to Ballinger on old Highway 83, and to Hillsboro on 35. Ben and his Rebels carried on with their systematic destroying of towns and cities and the blowing of major bridges.

If at all possible, Ben intended to hold Hoffman south of I-20. But with the ma.s.sive firepower of the man, he didn't know if that was possible.

123.

Like the mule, all he could do was try.

"It's time to pull the plug on Hoffman's advance," he told his team.

"We've got to knock out some of his tanks. Once that's done, we can uncork our own tanks and meet his on an equal basis. Our tanks are far superior. They're better armored, have heavier firepower, and are faster. What are the latest reports?"

"Hoffman has committed eight divisions north of the border," Beth said.

"He has four divisions in reserve."

Ben shook his head. He had been stunned when he had heard the rumor of the revised figures of Hoffman's strength. He had been shocked when he found out they were true. "Twelve full divisions," Ben said softly.

"Approximately two hundred thousand men. Minus about fifteen thousand that our little ragtag bunch of boys and girls have managed to send to that great n.a.z.i heaven in the skies."

Ben walked to a map. "The arrogant b.a.s.t.a.r.d has spread himself over three hundred miles of territory, committing a full division up eight routes.Look at what's he's done. We've stopped him dead bang cold on 163 just north of Barnhart by blowing those bridges. We've stopped him at the ruins of San Angelo. We've trapped him and stopped him between the Llano and the San Saba. We've blown every bridge on 87 and stopped him dead.

Same on Highways 16, 281, 81, and 77. He's most vulnerable on Highway 77. His people are exposed and in danger and the silly b.a.s.t.a.r.d can't see that. Order Buddy, O'Shea, and the Wolfpack to start hammering at that part of the division that someone foolishly placed over here on 36.

They're cut off. We've blown all the bridges between 77 and 36. Get them moving, Corrie."

124.

There was nothing Hoffman could do except pace up and down as his engineers, now stretched pitifully thin along three hundred miles, worked feverishly to lay temporary bridges across rivers and creeks.

None of his commanders dared approach him to point out that several battalions of his troops were cut off and dangerously exposed. Hoffman was in no mood for a critique of his strategy.

Hoffman ordered spotter planes up; the Rebels brought them down with SAMs. Rebel long-distance shooters, armed with .50-caliber sniper rifles lay hidden along the north sh.o.r.es of the rivers and creeks and terrorized the n.a.z.i engineers.

Hoffman dared not send teams across to hunt down the snipers, not after the first few attempts. Ben had antic.i.p.ated that and had Scouts and Recon teams in place to ambush the Blackshirts as they tried to circle around the snipers, who were firing from as far away as a mile and a half.

Hoffman ordered his artillery to lay down covering fire in an attempt to kill the snipers. As long as the bombardments lasted, the snipers were quiet and his engineers could work. Once the bombardments ceased, the snipers popped up and started shooting. Hoffman's engineers finally had to build thick shields and work behind them, which slowed them down to less than a snail's pace.

Hoffman's ma.s.sive army had been stopped cold.

On the easternmost flank of the Blackshirts, Buddy, O'Shea, and the Wolfpack quietly got into place along a seventeen mile stretch and waited for the fall of darkness.

125.

The Blackshirt commander knew he was exposed, knew that he was light when it came to tanks, and suspected the Rebels would try to hit him sometimes during the night. But where was his main concern. And how would they do it? He spread his men thin, all along the seventeen mile stretch of old highway.

Knowing how the Rebels loved risk-taking and doing what was least suspected of them, the commander made a fatal decision and faced the bulk of his troops to the west, thinking that the Rebels would probably slip up between the two cut-off armies.

"We're dealin' with a b.l.o.o.d.y fool," O'Shea said to Buddy. "Did the man think we'd walk into a box like that?"

"He just had to make a choice," Buddy said. "And he made the wrong one.""He'll ne'er get another chance to choose," the Irishman said grimly.

"Count on that," Buddy finished it.

The sun slipped over the horizon and deceptive shadows began creeping and lengthening. Field Marshal Hoffman ordered all work stopped and all men to take up arms. There was a sick, tight feeling in his belly. His early supper lay like a slimy blob in his stomach.

"What's wrong?" General Schiller radioed, irritation evident in his voice. "My engineers are nearly finished. Another hour and we can cross."

"No," Hoffman radioed his reply. "Every man behind a gun. I feel the Rebels will make a charge this night."

"From the front?" Schiller questioned. "That would be suicide, Field Marshall. Ben Raines would never do anything like that."

126.

"Don't question my orders!" Hoffman snapped. "Every man on the line."

"Yes, sir," his generals acknowledged. And to themselves: But if Raines does come, it won't be from the front. We are not dealing with a fool.

"Make them use up ammunition," Ben told Corrie. "We've got them ahead of their supply trucks. Let's wear them down. Get them shooting at shadows."

At full dark, the Rebels began lobbing mortar rounds in the general direction of Hoffman's lines and the Blackshirts panicked, immediately opening fire, pouring rounds into the darkness, hitting nothing but rocks and trees and empty air. All along the three hundred miles of front lines, the Blackshirts wasted thousands of rounds of precious ammunition. The early night sparked and sang deadly songs, the ragged tune coming from the Blackshirts side of the rivers and creeks. The Rebels kept their heads down and let the lead whistle and howl.

Buddy, O'Shea, and the Wolfpack had worked their way so close to the lines of the Blackshirts they could hear them talking. They could practically smell the fear emanating from the cut-off Blackshirts.