Vortex

Vasquez, Suarez, and several of the reconnaissance platoon officers were engaged in a heated, although not angry, discussion. Books and maps were scattered everywhere. They were so intent that they did not notice Vega’s presence until he was almost next to them.

Vasquez sensed his presence first and turning, gasped when he saw the general standing over him. The rest of the staff, embarrassed and a little frightened at not noticing Vega’s entrance, quickly came to attention.

The general responded to their muttered good mornings and gratefully sat down in the chair offered to him. Rustlings behind him soon resolved into a breakfast of bread and jam, some tinned meat, and strong coffee. As they handed him the plate, Vega remembered that fancy dinner in the Strand

Hotel. It seemed as if it had been years ago, but he remembered the elegant food clearly. He liked this much better.

“What is our situation, Colonel?” asked Vega as he picked up his coffee cup.

“Based on prisoners and other information, we believe the battalion we faced last night was a composite of several understrength units. They suffered at least twenty-five percent casualties, based on the bodies and destroyed equipment we have found.”

Suarez added, “Our casualties were closer to fifteen percent, including

Colonel Oliva.”

Vega nodded somberly. Night actions were always fought at close range, which meant a lot of hits and a lot of casualties. All the maneuvering and preparation in the world finally resolved into a hugger-mugger encounter where a bayonet was as good as an antitank missile. He was willing to sustain those losses, though, if he could reach Pretoria. A big victory would force the Russians to shorten his supply lines, pull in more of the socialist world as allies…

He realized he was drifting. Vasquez had gone on to describe the next most likely Boer position, the town of Temba.

A small mining settlement, scouts following the retreating South Africans had seen them retreat into it. A minor road junction, it had the added complication of lying across a small river. The terrain was definitely tricky.

Vasquez pointed to a sketchy map, which had been heavily annotated.

“Although the setup is more complex, I have reconnaissance personnel scouting the terrain for dead zones and potential approach routes. They should be back in this afternoon. We are also trying to build up a picture of the enemy’s order of battle, but—the colonel, paused, hesitating-“we are having some difficulty doing so.”

Vega nodded, a little impatiently. Vasquez had done well in a job that had grown harder and harder. Reconnaissance assets had been scarce to begin with, and now American aircraft made any movement dangerous. The chance of any aerial reconnaissance was also nil, especially after two of his precious reconnaissance aircraft had been shot down by carrier-based fighters.

Still, everyone knew the problems, and also the solutions, or the best ones that could be found. He looked at the colonel.

“Well?”

“We are seeing massive movement, not only in the town but on the roads leading to it.”

“That only makes sense,” Vega countered.

“It is the South Africans’ next defensive position, and we are getting closer to the capital all the time.

It’s only natural-“

“Sir, my worst-case estimate for the Afrikaner defenses was a composite battalion of armor, two understrength infantry battalions, and two batteries of artillery.” Everyone on the staff who heard the list winced.

Such a strong defense would make Temba nearly impossible to take.

“We have hard information about two battalions of armor, both stronger than we expected. One of them appears to be made up exclusively of tanks!”

“What?” Vega’s look of puzzlement was natural. The entire South African

Army didn’t have a complete battalion of tanks left anywhere.

“We’ve had several reconnaissance vehicles killed at long range, in excess of three thousand meters, by antitank missiles. the launchers were masked, but appeared to be deployed around the flanks of the town.”

The intelligence officer continued, “We are also seeing helicopters operating near Temba. They are not approaching close enough for us to make them out, but my scouts cannot recognize the type.”

Vega was intrigued.

“What do you think they are up to, Colonel?”

“We can only conclude that it is a last-ditch effort, sir. We are much closer to Pretoria than the Americans, and the Boers have always put the bulk of their forces in against us. The American front to the south has been quiet in the last few days. It may be that they have run into the same kind of supply problems we have faced, but their supply-hungry army cannot operate as well on short rations.

“My assessment is that they have been stripping the American front of every unit they can, and especially after our victory last night, have committed their national reserves from Pretoria. “

The general said, “Other possibilities?”