Ambush in the Ashes by William W. Johnstone Page A

new for any of us.”
    “He’s worried about his recently acquired collection of filthy magazines. He picked diem up back along the way. Really nasty ones. They’re in the truck right behind our wagon.”
    Ben chuckled. “These real juicy magazines, hey, Jersey?”
    “Filthier than any I’ve ever seen him read. And Cooper has some real gross magazines.”
    Before Ben could reply, Anna said in a whisper, “Movement in the swamp, in front and behind us.”
    “I wonder who they are?” Beth questioned, getting ready to jump into the ditch in front of them. “Gangs usually aren’t this smart.”
    “We’ll question any prisoners we take,” Ben replied.
    “If we take any,” Anna said.
    “There is always that to consider,” Ben agreed.
    Out in the swamp, someone got anxious and rose up from behind a log. A Rebel stitched him with a burst from his M-16 and the fight was on.
    Ben and team jumped for the ditch.
    “Well, crap!” Beth said, from her position on the far left side of the line. “I landed right in a pile of shit!”
    “Probably monkey shit,” Ben told her.
    “Thanks a lot,” Beth replied.
    Then there was no more time for talk as the as yet unknown enemy opened up from both sides of the swamp.

95 Twelve
    These were not undisciplined gangs of punks staging the ambush. The Rebels knew that within a few seconds. These were trained soldiers. Or, as Ben thought, they had been at one time.
    But as highly trained as they were, the ambushers could not match or withstand for long die withering fire from the Rebel column.
    The first wave of ambushers died before they could make ten yards toward the road. The dark swamp water soon became stained widi their blood.
    In less than one minute, die Rebels in die long column probably blew ten thousand rounds of various types of ammo at the ambushers. The swamp became thick with bodies of the dead and the dying and the close still air was soon acrid with the smell of gunsmoke.
    The ambushers pressed the attack for another couple of minutes, dien abrupdy broke it off, fading back into die swamp and the stunted trees.
    “Hold your positions,” Ben ordered, Corrie repeating the orders the instant diey left his moudi. “Where the hell are die gunships?”
    “On their way.”
    “Tell diem to strafe everything that moves on eiuier side of the road.”
    “Right, boss.”
     
    96
     
    Helicopter gunships, which had been circling the city of Banjul, some miles away, began roaring overhead, machine guns clattering and rockets tearing up the swamp.
    Still more ambushers died in the air assault.
    “Tell the tanks to strafe the bodies in the swamp with machine-gun fire,” Ben ordered. “I don’t want some dying asshole to take a Rebel with him with his last breath.”
    .50 and 7.62 caliber machine-gun fire ripped the swamp for a full minute before Ben ordered a halt. “Wounded?” Ben asked.
    “Two wounded, minor. No Rebel dead,” Corrie reported.
    “Good. Now shove that damn stalled truck off the road and let’s get the hell out of here.”
    While the vehicle blocking the road was being shoved off into the swamp, Corrie said, “Two prisoners, boss. They just crawled up out of the swamp. Both of them hard hit, not expected to make it.”
    “All right. We’ll hold up while intel gets what they can from them. Then toss the bodies back into the swamp.”
    “Done,” Corrie responded.
    “The Scouts near the city yet?”
    “As close as they dare get. The city is jam-packed, to use their words. The dead are piled up in rotting stacks outside the city. The residents try to burn the bodies, but are usually not entirely successful. They get the top of the pile, those underneath rot. There are absolutely no sanitation facilities; they were pretty lousy before the war, when there were about fifty thousand people here. Now there are about ten times that number.”
    “Damn!” Ben said. “Got any more good news?”
    “The city is a breeding ground for disease. Not even