I kept thinking of the millions of things that could go wrong. The plan didn’t look nearly so good from here as it had when we were studying maps. Here we are, seventy-six men, about to try to take a fort that probably has us outnumbered. Falkenberg estimated 125 men in there. I’d asked him how he got the number.
“Privies, Mr. Slater. Privies. Count the number of outhouses, guess the number of bottoms per hole, and you’ve got a good estimate of the number of men.” He hadn’t even cracked a grin.
One hell of a way to guess, and Falkenberg wasn’t coming along. We’d find out the hard way how accurate his estimate was.
I kept telling myself what we had going for us. The satellite photos showed nobody lived on this ridge. No privies, I thought, and grinned in the dark. But I’d gone over the pix, and I hadn’t seen any signs that people were ever here. Why should they be? There was no water except for the spring inside the fort itself. There was nothing up here, not even proper firewood, only these pesky shrubs that stab at your ankles.
I came around a bend in the stream bed and found a monitor waiting. His maniple stood behind him. He had three recruits in it: one NCO, one long-term private, and three recruits. The usual organization is only one or two recruits to a maniple, and I wondered why Lieberman had set this one up this way.
The monitor motioned uphill. We had to leave the stream bed here. Far ahead of me I could see the dull green glow of my lead men’s lanterns. They were pulling ahead of me, and I strained to keep up with them. I left the stream, and after a few meters the only man near me was Hartz. He struggled along with twenty kilos of communications gear on his back and a rifle in his right hand, but if he had any trouble keeping up with me, he didn’t say anything. I was glad I didn’t have to carry all that load.
The ridge flattened out after a hundred meters. The cover was only about waist-high. The green lights went out on my IR screen as up ahead the scouts cut their illuminators. I ordered the others turned off, as well. Then I crouched under a bush and used the map projector to show me where we were. The helmet projected the map onto the ground, a dim patch of light that couldn’t have been seen except from close up and directly above.
I was surprised to see we’d come better than halfway.
* * *
Fort Beersheba hadn’t been much to start with. It had a rectangle of low walls with guard towers in the corners, a miniature of the larger fort at Garrison. Then somebody had improved it, with a ditch and parapet out in front of the walls, and a concertina of rusting barbed wire outside of that. I couldn’t see inside the walls, but I knew there were four above-ground buildings and three large bunkers. The buildings were adobe. The bunkers were logs and earth. They wouldn’t burn. The logs were a local wood with a high metallic content.
The bunkers were going to be a problem, but they’d have to wait. Right now we had to get inside the walls of the fort. There was a gate in the wall in front of me. It was made of the same wood as the bunkers. It had a ramp across the ditch, and it looked like our best bet, except that inside the fort one of the bunkers faced the gate, and it would be able to fire through the opening once the gate was gone.
I had seventy-five men lying flat in the scrub brush three hundred meters from the fort. The place looked deserted. My IR pickups didn’t show anyone in the guard towers or on the walls. Nothing. I glanced at my watch. Less than an hour before dawn.
I hadn’t the faintest idea of what to do, but it was time to make up my mind.
“Don’t get fancy,” Falkenberg had told me. “Get the men to the fort and turn them loose. They’ll take it for you.”
Sure, I thought. Sure. You’re not here, you bloody coward, and I am, and it’s my problem, and I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.
I didn’t like the looks of that ditch and barbed-wire concertina. It would take a while getting through it. If we crawled up to the ditch, we’d be spotted. They couldn’t be that sloppy; if there weren’t any guards, there had to be a surveillance system. Body capacitance, maybe. Or radar. Something. They’d have guards posted unless they had reason to believe nobody could sneak up on them.
To hell with it. We’ve got to do something, I thought. I nodded to Hartz and he handed me a mike. His radio was set to a narrow-beam directional antenna, and we’d left relays along the line of sight back to the landing area. I could talk to the choppers without alerting the fort’s electronic watchdogs.
“Nighthawk, this is Blackeagle,” I said.
“Blackeagle go.”
“We can see the place, Louis. Nothing moving at all. I’d say it was deserted if I didn’t know better.”
“Want me to come take a look?”
It was a thought. The chopper could circle high above the fort and scan with IR and low-light TV. We’d know who was in the open. But there was a good chance it would be spotted, and we’d throw away our best shot.
“Don’t get fancy,” Falkenberg had said. “Surprise—that’s your big advantage. Don’t blow it.”
But he wasn’t here. There didn’t seem to be any right decision. “No,” I told Louis. “That’s a negative. Load up with troops and get airborne, but stay out of line of sight. Be ready to dash. When I want you, I’ll want you bad.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
“Blackeagle out.” I gave Hartz the mike. Okay, I told myself, this is it. I waved forward to Sergeant Ardwain.
He half rose from the ground and waved. The line moved ahead, slowly. Behind us the mortar and recoilless rifle teams had set up their weapons and lay next to them waiting for orders.
Corporal Roff was just to my left. He was directly in front of the gate. He waved his troops on and we crawled toward the gate.
We’d gotten to within a hundred meters when there appeared a light at the top of the wall by the gate. Someone up there was shining a spot out onto the field. There was another light, and then another, all hand-held spotlights, powerful, but not very wide beams.
Corporal Roff stood up and waved at them “Hello, there!” he shouted. “Whatcha doin’?” He sounded drunk. I wanted to tell him to get down, but it was too late.
“You guys okay in there?” Roff shouted. “Got anything to drink?”
The others were crouched now, up from a crawl, and running forward.
“Who the hell are you?” someone on the wall demanded.
“Who the flippin’ hell are you?” Roff answered. “Gimme a drink!” The lights converged toward him.
I thumbed on my command set. “Nighthawk, this is Blackeagle. Come a-runnin’!”
“Roger dodger.”
I switched to the general channel. “Roff, hit the dirt! Fire at will. Charge!” I was shouting into the helmet radio loud enough to deafen half the command.
Roff dove sideways into the dirt. There were orange spurts from all over the field as the troopers opened fire. The lights tumbled off the walls. Two went out. One stayed on. It lay in the dirt just outside the gate.
Troopers rose from the field and ran screaming toward the fort. They sounded like madmen. Then a light machine gun opened from behind me, then another.
Trumpet notes sounded. I hadn’t ordered it. I didn’t even know we had a trumpet with us. The sound seemed to spur the men on. They ran toward the wire as the mortars fired their first rounds. Seconds later I saw spurts of fire from inside the walls as the shells hit. Just as they did, the recoilless opened behind me and I heard the shell pass not more than a couple of meters to my left. It hit the gates and there was a flash, then another hit the gates, and another. The trumpeter was sounding the charge over and over again, while mortars dropped more V.T. fused to go off a meter above ground into the fort itself. The recoilless fired again.
The gates couldn’t take that punishment and fell open. There was smoke inside. One of the mortarmen must have dropped smoke rounds between the gates and the bunker. Streams of tracers came out of the gates, but the men avoided them easily. They ran up on either side of the gates.
Others charged directly at the wire. The first troopers threw themselves onto the concertina. The next wave stepped on their backs and dived into the ditch. More waves followed, and men in the ditches heaved their comrades up onto the narrow strip between the ditch and the walls.