Vortex

Instead, they sheltered it against the gully’s side, then moved forward slowly to the top of the hill.

The command group, consisting of Vega, Vasquez, Gomez with the radio, and two bodyguards, settled down to wait for the opening moves. Suarez would run the battle from headquarters. In fact, Vega thought, Suarez was shaping up nicely. Certainly, when the next list of generals was announced, Suarez should be on it. The man should have his own division. .

A rippling group of explosions woke Vega with a start.

“How long have I been asleep?”

“About half an hour, sir. There’s been nothing to see. and you needed the rest. The artillery barrage is just beginning. “

“Good.” Initially afraid that he’d missed something, his relief was mixed with irritation. Was everyone in the Army going to nursemaid him now?

Vega was lying on his back and rolled over, grabbing his field glasses.

Only the general outlines of the landscape could be made out. Scattered clouds blocked some of the starlight and a very new moon. A classic example of the veld, or savannah, making up much of northern South

Africa, it appeared flat, covered with scrub brush and tall grass.

Off to the left, he could see a glow and hear the explosions made by artillery shells as they landed. They had probably started a few fires in the grass, hopefully among the South African defenders.

The deceptively flat terrain was laced with dips and rises, some of them large enough to conceal an armored vehicle.

With time to prepare, vehicles could be dug in so that only their turret and gun were exposed, forming an excellent defensive position. Their slow progress had given the Boers more than enough time.

This battle was to regain the initiative. The South Africans had rebuilt their defenses, and Vega was going to have to knock them back on their heels. His wound notwithstanding, the general felt the old drive again.

He knew he could blow these damn Boers out of their holes, and the artillery was just the first step.

The barrage ceased, and Vega knew that kilometers back, the gun crews were hurriedly bringing the guns out of battery and moving them to their second firing position. He would lose the battery for half an hour, but better that than losing them forever.

Vega lay on the rise and watched, waiting. It was quiet again, and in the darkness, the only sound he could hear was a faint rumbling, far to the rear. Some part of his forces was being bombed, and Vega could only hope that Suarez could deal with the extra confusion.

The second phase was late, or seemed to be, and Vega felt himself displaying uncharacteristic nervousness. He was almost ready to reach for the radio when he heard the crack of high-velocity cannon, off to the left. There were no new lights, but as the tank cannon fired, he could see streaks of light fly forward and land all along the South African line. The T-62s probably wouldn’t hit anything, Vega decided, but they would get the Boers’ attention, and certainly their respect.

After a few shots, Vega saw streaks of fire going back the other way.

There was no sign of the source, or its effects, and he could only hope his men were giving the best part.

The general scanned the rest of the battlefield. Good. No lights, no sounds, no other sign of activity. Fifteen minutes had passed since the barrage had stopped, and the general nervously counted each one, hoping that his artillery would be redeployed in time.

They didn’t get the chance. A popping noise heralded a harsh, white, flickering light. Vega noted that the flares were fired over the right side of the battlefield and knew that his plan had been detected.

The magnesium light illuminated row after row of tanks and personnel carriers, advancing on the right toward the Boer lines. Somebody must have heard engines and called for flares. It had to happen eventually, but like all generals, Vega had wanted them to get a little closer before they were discovered.

The firing on his left had been by no more than a handful of tanks, picked for their cranky engines, but functional guns. Combined with a preparatory barrage, Vega’s feint had not only drawn the enemy’s attention but hopefully their reserves as well.

Vega watched his lines of armor advance. They were speeding up now, sacrificing neat formations to close quickly with the enemy. Breaking standard doctrine, they would not fire until they had a target, which would hopefully be at short range. As it was, they were only a kilometer or so from the Afrikaner line.

It only took a few seconds for the enemy to see the advancing battalion and realize their danger. Their positions erupted in tracers, bathing the advancing Cubans in explosives. There were a few hits, but the dark, moving targets held their fire and kept advancing.

Vega started to get up, but almost as soon as he stirred, he felt

Vasquez’s hand on his shoulder, urging him to stay.