Free Civilian Slaughter by James Rouch Page A

be that offered by the larger refugee camps. There, overcrowding and the total breakdown of any semblance of law made life only marginally better. The Red Cross and the other relief agencies could do little faced with the vast numbers involved.
    Taking his place in the front passenger seat, Revell saw that Andrea was already behind the wheel. Her foot tapped out an impatient series of loud revs from the gas pedal. Her action betrayed at least one fresh hole in the much patched muffler.
    She looked like she'd been on a three day binge. Her hair was matted and her eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot. From the slack fit of her battledress Revell figured that she was also losing weight. Where it had been tight over her chest and hips, its folds now concealed her shape. As yet her drinking hadn't affected her fighting capabilities, but then he'd not put her in a position where she'd been really tested. At the rate she was going though, it would not be long before he had to do something about her. Once, because of how he'd felt about her, she would've had special treatment. Not any more.
    “We're all set. Give them a blast.” Cradling his assault shotgun, Revell wished his hands were free so that he could stuff his fingers in his ears.
    Andrea kept her hand down hard on the air-horn. The blare of the klaxon seemed to make his skull vibrate.
    “That'll do. I think they got the message.” Revell estimated they had a three hour journey. With Garrett occupied on his radio watch in the rear compartment and with this silent and unsmiling driver, it was going to seem a lot longer.

    ELEVEN

“Scorched earth. With a vengeance.”
Revell had to agree with Sergeant Hyde. It certainly looked as if those were the tactics that had been employed by the Warpac unit that pulled back from the area.
    On his map Revell had it marked as an area of extensive demolitions. That told only a fraction of the story. The road here ran through thick woodland and what had once been a Russian encampment. There was little left by which to identify it as such.
    What had been a complex of deep bunkers, skilfully linked by an extensive network of trenches and weapon pits was now a wasteland. Powerful explosions had caved in whole sections, and what had been missed by them showed ample evidence of having been churned and bulldozed. Fire had completed the work of destruction and the air still reeked with the distinctive smell of flame-thrower fuel and phosphorus residue.
    Even a motorcycle and sidecar, presumably beyond repair and not worthy of salvage, had been crushed into the soft loam, like a modern-day fossil.
    Masses of tall pines and firs had been toppled and now formed an impenetrable entwined and splintered mass across the road.
    “It looks like they blasted everything, then ran across the whole lot with a squadron of tanks.” Revell pushed the flattened motorcycle with the toe of his boot. It didn't yield. “They didn't mean to leave anything for us, did they? I thought when we drove over the rest of our section our pet Russians were in for an easy time. I see now that they're not.” He turned to Lieutenant Vokes. “You're the expert in this sort of work. Where do we start?”
    Vokes surveyed the torn and heavily cratered road. In places it was bared to a depth of several feet where spoil from detonations close alongside had rained down. He had tried counting the trees that lay across it, but had given up when he reached sixty, with at least as many more still to go.
    “I think the orders are that we have ten days to open up twenty kilometres?” He looked to the major for an answering nod of confirmation. Another glance at the road and he sucked in air through the gap in his teeth.
    “This section is by far the worst. I would think it would absorb seventy-five percent of our work force for the whole of that period. We are lucky it is virtually in the middle. I would suggest we camp and concentrate our effort here. The other road blocks, and that