Larry Bond - Vortex

JANUARY 4-U.S. EXPEDITIONARY FORCE HEADQUARTERS, DURBAN, RSA

It was part of his job, but General Craig found it hard to hide his contempt for the junketing politicians who kept appearing at his headquarters. As soon as the U.S. forces had expanded their toehold into a beachhead, and then broken out from the Drakensberg, a group of congressmen, bureaucrats, and even some state officials had decided to visit South Africa on a ‘fact-finding” mission. It didn’t hurt that while it was winter in Washington, it was summer in South Africa.

A few were sincere. They were easy to spot. They knew the background, had read up on the forces involved, and had even taken the time to look at a map. The rest were idiots. Their idea of preparation was to watch a tape of Zulu.

Craig begrudged the time, the stupid questions, and their long trips to the beaches of Durban and to Table Mountain in Cape Town. They walked over the battered mountain’s landscape as if it were an old Civil War battlefield. One had actually asked why there weren’t any park rangers!

Craig endured. He was savvy enough to know that these men wielded real power in Congress, and they would remember the red-carpet treatment the next time they voted on defense appropriations. It reminded him, though, why he detested politics and politicians.

Most of the group had taken the afternoon off to attend to personal business,” which Craig knew meant sun and surf along the Golden

Mile. Two members of the party, though, had asked to see Ladysmith. Craig had long ago marked them as the good ones, and he decided to escort them personally.

Ladysmith was a lot more recent battle than Table Mountain, and it showed in the gutted vehicles and burned-out buildings. Even with surprise on their side, the 101st had taken over 15 percent casualties in the lead battalion, 10 percent in the brigade overall.

Their helicopter had followed the same path as the assault force, and the very real door gunners in the aircraft had given the congressmen the feeling of taking part-exactly what Craig had wanted.

As instructed, the pilot made an assault landing near the original LZ, and they had toured the town, the new Army base nearby, and the field hospital, which treated not only the casualties from Ladysmith, but from the entire Drakensberg campaign.

Craig had warned the hospital staff in advance, and they had tracked down any patients from the congressmen’s states. A military photographer was standing by and caught the scene as they visited their constituents in the field.

It was good stuff, and Craig had caught himself smiling in spite of himself. These two cared, and he didn’t mind helping them out. He also wanted to be around when those double-damned pleasure seekers found out they’d missed a “photo opportunity.”

The two officials had eaten lunch on the ride back, trying MREs for the first time.

“Meals ready to eat” were vacuum packed meals meant to be carried by soldiers in the field. Some were good, some not so good. Craig told the senators they were a definite improvement on the old tinned C rations, but the troops called them “meals rejected by Ethiopians.”

The small group was now about to take part in Craig’s daily afternoon intelligence brief. This would put the politicos in the picture as much as he was, Craig thought, plus would let them feel they had the inside scoop. Congressmen automatically had the security clearances necessary to see this stuff, and he was pretty sure these two would not blab it around.

The briefing was always given in one of the conference rooms at the

Durban Hilton. The hotel’s convention facilities had easily been converted to serve as Craig’s headquarters, and the staff had simply treated the Allied soldiers as another set of conventioneers.

A detailed map of South Africa covered one wall. The position of each division, and each brigade within the division, was marked, as well as their progress over the past two days and their objectives for the next twenty-four hours.

Information on enemy forces was also displayed, but this was much less well defined. Not only was the intelligence fragmentary and possibly wrong, but there was more than one enemy.

Still, it was gratifying to look at the map. It clearly showed the speed and sweep of the Allied advance, radiating out from Ladysmith in several directions.

As they settled into their seats, the J-2, or intelligence officer, detailed new data on each of the belligerents. The Cuban forces were still consolidating their hold on Naboomspruit and had successfully repelled a weak counterattack by the Boers. It had probably been launched quickly, to try to knock them out before they dug in.

The Boers themselves had units scattered all over the map. A line of infantry and armor stretched in front of Pretoria, screening the capital from the Cuban advance, while a second appeared to be forming in front of Johannesburg to the south. Anchored on Vereeniging and the mountain west of it, it would guard the biggest city in South Africa from the advancing Allied army.

Other Boer units continued to try to suppress the rebellion, either garrisoning mines and cities or chasing rebels around the countryside.

Craig was glad to see so much of South

Africa’s fighting power distracted, but it cut two ways. After his troops occupied the area, he would be responsible for civil law and order.

Finally, there were the commandos. A cross between militia and guerrillas, they operated behind American lines and tied up troops and time chasing them down. Data on them was sketchy.

As much for the senators as for Craig, his J-2 summarized the situation.

“Although U.S.” British, and rebel South African forces now hold the

RSA’s major port cities and coastal lands, much of the interior, the ‘deep north,” remains in the hands of Vorster and his AWB cronies. This is his heartland, the source of his political strength, and much of the population would support him against any outsider.

“Even worse, the Cuban invasion force holds two of South Africa’s most important minerals complexes and is closer than we are to Pretoria and

Johannesburg.”

The J-2 pointed to Naboomspruit.

“The nearest Cuban forces are about a hundred and ten kilometers away from Pretoria. Based on reconnaissance photos and other intelligence, they will not be ready to advance for another two days. “

The officer moved his pointer to the south.

“Leading elements of the

Twenty-fourth, advancing up National Route Three, arrived in Warden this morning. That puts them one hundred and eighty kilometers from

Johannesburg.”

Craig chimed in, “And to get there, we will have to swing around the Vaal

River dam complex and punch through the line at Vereeniging. Then we take the city itself, fight our way over the Witwatersrand”he sighed—and then we can go after Pretoria.”

The two senators looked questioningly at the general.

“Then we can’t beat the Cubans to Pretoria?” one asked.

“Not at the rate we’re going, sir. ” Craig smiled ironically.

“Vega had one hell of a head start on us.”

Craig continued, “Given the time, we could build up enough forces to take on the enemy positions with excellent odds of success, and use those odds to hold down casualties. My supply line is long, though, and as you’ve seen, not completely secure. As it is, I’m pressed for time and have taken risks, like Ladysmith, to keep the offensive moving. Remember that when you see the casualty lists back home.”

he two congressmen nodded. One asked, “if you can’t get to Pretoria in time, why spend those lives pushing so hard?”

“Because I still need to be in Pretoria as quickly as possible. I don’t want the Cubans dug in deep.” He paused, looking at the map.