Mercenary Part 26

Louisa got to her feet. 'Stay there and don't move,' she said and hurried into the charred remains of the hospital tent looking for anything that was usable. She found a box of bandages and grabbed as many other items as she could.

She returned to the little girl and picked her up. 'Listen to me!' she called out to the others. 'Listen to me!' she repeated for those too dazed to hear her the first time. 'Bring all the children, bring the wounded and as many medical supplies as you can carry to the cabins. Get help. We must all help!'

She headed back along the track, calling out for others to follow. She hurried past various manned sandbag defences to the cabin used by Stratton and Victor and pushed open the door. She put the little girl in a chair and immediately set about preparing the room to accommodate the wounded.

Louisa threw wood on the smouldering fire, hung a pot of water on the cooking frame, cleared the table of pots and pans and took a moment to tend to the little girl's wound.

A strange noise began to filter in from outside and she paused to listen. It sounded like whistles and Louisa wondered what it could mean.

The rebel commanders moved along their defensive lines, moving men to fill any gaps they found, ensuring that bayonets were fitted and each fighter had ample ammunition. The strategy from that point on was basic enough and everyone knew it. The Neravistas needed to punch a hole through the perimeter defence in order to stream into the camp and take it apart. The rebels' mission was simply to stop them any way they could. Many still hoped that Hector would arrive to a.s.sist them. It was the only thing keeping some of them from running away.

A 'beaten zone' of open ground had been cleared along the front of the entire perimeter, something the men had complained about while they'd been doing it and now thanked G.o.d for. The zone was the width of a tennis court and it meant that the enemy would be exposed for the time it took them to cross it. During any such charge that the Neravistas might make the rebels hoped to kill as many of them as possible.

The line of Neravistas advanced ever closer through the forest, which for some meant hacking a path through it with machetes. Their commanders could be heard shouting at those who were too slow to speed up and at those who were getting too far ahead to hold their positions and keep the line.

The rebels brought their guns into their shoulders, adjusted the sights for close range, checked the positioning of their spare magazines - and moistened their dry lips.

Stratton was waiting for the battle to get started before he headed for the perimeter. It was the only way to avoid getting cut down by the rebel volleys. Another line of Neravistas appeared, running up the track, forty or fifty of them. They stopped to form up in several short lines, one behind the other, and the officers quickly ordered them to advance, one after the other, with a few metres' gap in between each line.

'That's our way in,' Stratton said.

'Why is that?' Victor asked.

'Those men are extra support to ensure they punch a hole through the perimeter at that point. They'll be doing that all along the line.'

Stratton made his way forward, keeping low, gauging his distance so as not to get too close. Victor followed. Unusually for them, the Indians brought up the rear.

Every rebel squatted behind his defensive position with his stare fixed on the foliage at the opposite side of the beaten zone. They could hear the Neravistas' progress and expected them to break through and charge at any second. Then it would be the rebels' turn to do some killing. The need to deliver a power ful blow at this point was paramount. 'Kill a dozen each and we win' were the words handed along the line.

Men fixed bayonets, tightened fingers on triggers and blinked their eyes behind rifle sights, waiting for a man to shoot and then move on to the next.

The rebels had placed M60 machine guns at intervals along the line, their ammunition belts laid out for quick usage, ammo boxes open around gunners and loaders.

Suddenly the Neravistas went silent, the sounds of their advance fading away. The government forces had stopped.

The tension soared.

'They're waiting to charge,' a rebel commander whispered to the men either side of him. 'Wait for them.' The words were pa.s.sed down the line.

Beads of sweat rolled down faces. Trigger fingers quivered. Breathing was ragged.

A rebel turned his head to one side, vomited and quickly turned back without wiping his mouth to look through his rifle sights.

Another urinated in his pants without taking his stare from the killing zone.

The Neravistas' front line stood still in the forest, their comrades in the next wave kneeling a few metres behind them. They could see the rebel perimeter beyond the sunlit gap they had to cross. It was difficult to see the rebels themselves in the relative shade of their positions but occasional movements reminded the government soldiers that they were there and waiting for them. Few had really believed their officers who had tried to convince them that the artillery bombardment would kill most of the enemy.

Those Neravistas in the front line were the most scared. They were the ones who would step into the light first. But they had one weapon to aid them, to give them some confidence, a surprise for the rebels that, as their officers had insisted, if they could use it to full advantage would mean they could make it to the rebel positions without a scratch.

A Neravista officer made his way along the rear of the lines, ducking between branches and over logs as he rea.s.sured the men. 'The grenades will clear the way,' he reminded them. 'Let your grenades do the work. They will clear what is left of the rebel line.'

Each man in the front line held a grenade tightly in one hand, his gun in the other. They had already pulled the rings and were holding the striker levers against the grenades' casings, ready for the order to throw.

A rebel veteran saw the foliage opposite him move. He knew the Neravistas were there, waiting for the order to charge. He saw something beyond the outer branches, a pair of legs in camouflage clothing. He pulled his rifle tightly against his shoulder and rested his finger on the trigger as he aimed.

The enemy's legs s.h.i.+fted position. The rebel was sure that the man was about to charge.

He adjusted his sights to where the man's chest should be and squeezed the trigger.

His gun went off. The Neravista dropped out of the bushes and fell face down into the dirt, dead.

'Hold your fire!' a rebel commander yelled.

An instant later the grenade the soldier had been holding slipped out of his hand, the lever flew off and after a few seconds it exploded.

Several Neravistas nearby were hit by shrapnel. One of them screamed in agony as he fell.

'They have grenades!' a rebel shouted. 'Grenades!'

The implications spread along the rebel line like wildfire.

The commander was unsure what to do at that second. He had made up his mind to fire only when the Neravistas charged. But now things were different.

The realisation of the new danger struck many of the rebels far more quickly. They knew that they had to act first.

'They have grenades!' one of them shouted again. 'FIRE!' he yelled and the rebel front line erupted in a thunder of guns.

Dozens of Neravistas were cut down inside the forest. Explosions shook the ground as the grenades they had been holding went off.

The government soldiers reacted in desperation and many in the front line threw their grenades. Many were shot as they emerged from cover to ensure that their devices flew freely into the rebel positions.

The Neravista officers realised they had lost the element of surprise and knew they had only one option left to them. 'Charge!' they yelled repeatedly, running behind the lines and firing their pistols into the ground behind the heels of their men.

The Neravistas burst into the open. Many were cut down immediately but a fair number of grenades were thrown and succeeded in silencing the rebel guns long enough for the government forces to cross the gap.

The Neravista soldiers screamed as they came, leaping over fallen comrades, rifles held out in front of them, the points of their bayonets leading the way. They pulled their triggers repeatedly, firing at anything and everything confronting them.

The rebels had the advantage of being defenders behind cover but although they killed an enormous number of Neravistas the far larger force overwhelmed them.

Rebels caught changing magazines were killed before they could reload. Bayonets plunged into throats and chests. The sound of metal upon metal joined the gunfire as men parried lunges and skewered bodies. Rifle b.u.t.ts slammed across faces. The screams of the impaled and of those doing the impaling joined the cacophony. Soldiers gouged eyes, sunk teeth into flesh. They smashed skulls and shot faces.

All along the rebel line, Neravistas charged through gaps.

'Fall back!' came the order from rebel commanders but for many it was too late.

The line of rebels began to thin. Gangs of Neravistas set upon individuals, who were stabbed and shot from all sides. They battered, slashed and blasted the wounded where they lay or crawled.

Stratton and the others had listened to it all. The sounds of death and battle had not helped their morale any. If Stratton had stayed behind the others would gladly have done the same.

They watched the last of the Neravistas head into action.

'Now,' Stratton said as he hurried forward.

Victor gritted his teeth and followed closely behind, feeling utterly vulnerable and not just because he had no weapon. This is madness, he thought.

The sound of gunfire grew louder as they made their way up the slope and into the undergrowth where visibility dropped to a few metres. The fighting seemed to rage all around them.

A bullet zinged through the air between Stratton and Victor, and more slapped into the leaves and branches above. Victor crouched as low as he could without actually crawling on his belly and stretched a hand out in front of him, almost touching Stratton as if afraid of losing contact with him.

Bullets raked the ground close by and Stratton checked behind to see if the others were okay. Kebowa had suffered a nick across an arm but otherwise the team seemed to be unscathed.

They came across their first dead body, a Neravista with most of his head blown away. Stratton s.n.a.t.c.hed up the rifle beside him and c.o.c.ked it to ensure it was loaded. A few metres further on lay another body and Stratton relieved the dead man of his magazine sack. Victor grabbed up his weapon, eyes wide as he looked ahead.

They pushed on at a steady pace, Stratton aware that they had to avoid getting too close until the way was clear.

More bullets spat past them as they reached the cleared zone. Stratton crouched low and paused on the edge to take a look. Dead and injured Neravistas littered the sunlit ground.The main sound this far behind the battle line was the groaning of the wounded.

The sound of gunfire came from ahead. Stratton continued to wait, his gaze darting everywhere, his heart pounding in his chest.

The fighting seemed to move to the left and right of their front. It suggested that the Neravistas had successfully breached the perimeter at that point and were clearing the sides.

'The Neravistas have won through,' Stratton said as he turned to face Victor. 'From here on it's whatever your goal is. You know mine.'

Victor nodded. When he looked at Stratton the man was wearing a thin smile. Amid the madness that surrounded them, the flying bullets and the grotesque screams of dying men, the Englishman's expression had a calming effect on him. His fear remained but he could focus his thoughts.

'Thanks for everything,' Stratton said.

Victor wanted to say something but could not. This was a place where men said goodbye to life without a word.

Stratton looked at the Indians who understood he was saying farewell. He turned his back on them and ran across the clearing.

Victor watched him disappear into the foliage on the other side and when he was gone he felt a sudden relief. Stratton's single-mindedness had driven Victor to levels he could never have hoped to reach on his own. Mostly it had simply meant following the man but it had always seemed as if they were heading straight into h.e.l.l. Now that he had gone the pressure was off. Victor felt free.

He faced his companions. 'Let's go,' he said, jutting his chin back the way they had come. 'We made it to the camp. How I don't know. We can go now.'

Kebowa and Mohesiwa indicated that Stratton had gone forward.

'He's got things he must do,' Victor explained. 'We go,' he said.'I've come this far. It's enough. My conscience is clear. I don't want to see any more dead bodies, especially those of people I know.'

Victor started back down through the forest, followed by the others. Yoinakuwa made his way to the front, moving stealthily down the slope. But as they reached the point where the foliage began to thin out Yoinakuwa stopped and held his hand out behind him to indicate that the others should do the same.

He moved forward and crouched to look through the leaves.

Victor came to his side. 'Merde,' he muttered.

Trudging along the track was a fresh company of Neravistas. An officer yelled an order and they came to a halt. Another command and they faced towards Victor and the rebel perimeter and marched forward.

Chapter 10.

Stratton jumped through the rebel defences and over and between bodies as he made his way carefully towards the other side of the strip of jungle that formed the perimeter at that point.

He paused halfway through the strip to look ahead. Figures ran across in front of him in the field beyond. He could not make out which side they were from. Shots rang out - a distant machine gun. Some of the rounds entered the jungle and struck the trees above him.

Something grabbed his leg and he leapt back like a cat, his gun barrel traversing and ready to fire. It was a wounded rebel, lying on his back. Blood oozed from bullet holes and bayonet cuts around his chest and face. He tried to say something but the words would not come out. His eyes were filled with sadness as he reached out to Stratton for help.

It was the cruellest of choices for Stratton, but one to which he knew the answer immediately. Even if he could have saved the man, which did not look possible, he would not have done so. 'I'm sorry, mate,' he said. 'I'm sorry.'

Stratton hurried on, as much to get away from the man and the feeling of guilt as to pursue his goal.

He reached the edge of the jungle strip from where he could see the interior of the camp. He made out the roof of the stables a few hundred metres away. Smoke was everywhere. Gunfire raged to either side of him but directly ahead, towards the stables, it seemed to be quiet.

As he stood to better see the ground ahead he saw several dead Neravistas lying in the gra.s.s between him and the stables. There were a dozen or so of them, cut down while advancing across the open ground. Stratton remembered a machine-gun emplacement at that end of the stables and suspected it was the source of the gunfire that had killed them.

A loud explosion nearby made him duck behind a tree. It was too big to have been a grenade and smaller than the artillery ammunition that the Neravistas had been using. It had to have been a mortar sh.e.l.l. Having secured the perimeter, the Neravistas were preparing to carve up the camp interior. Stratton had no time to waste.

He concentrated on solving his immediate problem, which was how to get to the stables. He considered going further round the perimeter to approach from a different direction but it would waste time and the obstacles would probably be the same.

Stratton looked for a nearby dead rebel, one whose camouflage jacket was not too b.l.o.o.d.y, and quickly removed it. He pulled it on, found a rebel cap and moved back to the edge of the strip.

A helicopter screamed overhead, banking steeply, with another close on its tail. Stratton watched as they flew to the far end of the camp where they seemed to hover low. Troops leapt out of the side doors and the helicopters took to the air again.

He took a deep breath and headed across the field past the dead Neravistas and into the open.